


Whatever Happens, Doesn't Stay

by evansrogerskitten



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: 18+, Alcohol Abuse, Dirty Talk, Drunkeness, Exhibitionism, F/M, NSFW, Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansrogerskitten/pseuds/evansrogerskitten
Summary: For Dean’s fortieth birthday you come up with the perfect present- a wild weekend in Las Vegas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 40th Birthday, Dean. I love you forever. 
> 
> For SPN Kink Bingo, Square Filled: Exhibitionism

Sam had been making out with this chick for like half an hour.

Okay, maybe it was ten minutes. But it wasn’t something you wanted to watch, even though yeah, Sam was kinda good looking and the girl was pretty cute. But no. Weird. It’s Sam.

“Did you put something in his drink?” you teased Dean. “Cuz I’m pretty sure this is more like somethin’ you’d do.”

“Hey! Well, yeah sounds like me,” Dean laughed. His grin faded into a grimace as the girl half on top of Sam moaned. “I don’t wanna watch this. Wanna go somewhere else?” Dean tilted his head towards the exit.

“Ummm yeah.” You downed your third glass of whiskey and tossed some cash on the table to cover your and Dean’s drinks. When he protested you shook your head.

“Nope, I’m buying, birthday boy,” you smiled. “You can buy me drunk food later.”

For Dean’s fortieth birthday you had come up with the perfect present- a wild weekend in Las Vegas. Dean had been elated, yelling “Vegas baby!” every ten miles between Lebanon and Sin City. The trip was a good idea. All three of you needed a break from saving the world. Some more than others apparently, you thought to yourself as you watched Sam’s hand wander up the tan thigh of this girl you’d all met just an hour ago- What’s her name? Carlie? Cami?

Dean smacked his brother on the shoulder, frowning as Sam slid his mouth away from the blonde’s for a moment. “Dude, we’re gonna go.”

“Oh okay. Maybe we can meet up with you,” Sam slurred. His lips quirked into a smile as Candi obviously started kissing his neck. “Text me later.”

“Make good choices, Sam!” you called out, following Dean out of the bar. “Well he’s a lost cause. Who knew Sam’d be the first one to hook up.”

“Who knows what the night will bring!” Dean announced as hotel’s front doors slid open and the dry Vegas air hit you. “Where first, darlin’?”

“MGM?”

“Next up, MGM!”

Three hours later, you and Dean were cackling as you stumbled out of the casino elevator. He kept his arm over your shoulders as you walked through New York New York, both of you happy as you walked through the bustling gallery. It was so easy to be with him. You knew Dean had your back all the time, not just on hunts but with regular life stuff too. That’s probably why it’d been so easy to fall in love with him. But you lived the hunting life so you’d never made a move, never said a word about your feelings. You just enjoyed flirting with him, being his friend, making him laugh. And you were thrilled he’d survived long enough to even celebrate this milestone birthday. There was too much to lose between you and you’d rather have him as a best friend than nothing at all.

“Shots?” Dean asked as he steered you towards the bar. The more you drank, the easier it was to forget the grim realities that awaited your return from vacation. Another round and you headed to the roulette wheel, losing $100 but turning it around to win $300 at the craps table. Dean played poker for a while, leaving you to nurse a margarita at the slots. When he finally sauntered back over to you, waving $500 in hand, you leapt from your seat and cheered.

“Dude, this is awesome! We should’ve gotten a four star room!”

Dean laughed and pulled you closer, his thumb rubbing a circle on your shoulder. “Whatcha wanna do next, sweetheart?”

You ignored the weakness in your knees when the endearment rolled off his tongue. The drunker you got, the more likely you were to grab him and kiss him. You paused in front of the hotel’s arcade watching people playing old school video games and skee ball. Tucked off to the side was an old school photo booth.

“There’s a photo booth!” you squealed, grabbing Dean’s hand and dragging him towards it. The photo booth was just like the ones you used to go to when you were a kid- cheap red polyester curtain, images of cheesy models posing on the sides, and barely enough room for two people to fit inside.

“Puhleeeease?” you begged as you paused outside, “it’s your birthday, we have to get a picture!”

Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling even though you could tell he was going to give in. “I hate taking pictures.”

“Liar, c’mon.” You slid $5 into the machine and pulled Dean into the vestibule with you, sliding the red curtain closed.

There wasn’t much room in the booth, so you circled around for a second like a lost puppy while Dean sat down on the stool. He chuckled and grabbed your waist, pulling you down onto his lap. Before you could say anything numbers on the screen started to count down. For the first photo you both smiled really cheesy, followed by goofy looks as you both laughed at each other. The third photo you paused, Dean’s eyes meeting your’s. His hands moved up your thighs, tightening around your waist. You took a deep breath and as the fourth picture snapped, Dean leaned in and kissed you.

“Sorry, I…”

“No, it’s okay…”

“I don’t want you to think…”

“Please don’t apologize…”

The photo booth screen announced _Viva Las Vegas!_ in bright scrolling shapes as the photo session ended. You knew you should get up, but god, you didn’t want to. So many times you’d laid in bed at night, thinking about Dean holding you, kissing you, wanting you. You didn’t want the moment to be over.

“C’mere,” Dean muttered before he pulled your face down to his, his lips brushing against yours. You moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, tasting tequila and mint as his tongue swiped over yours. You moved to straddle his waist, gasping as his fingers moved up under your shirt. You were lost in each other, making out until you were grinding down against him, Dean’s hips moving with yours.

“Oh my, I’m sorry,” a voice said in surprise as a stranger pulled the curtain open a few inches and discovered you. They quickly slid the curtain shut, muttering to their companion about “kids these days.”

You and Dean made eye contact and burst out laughing.

“We should probably leave,” you muttered, your fingers still gripping the lapel of his jacket.

“Yeah, probably.” His tongue grazed his lower lip as he pushed your hair behind your ear, both of you watching each other for a moment. Dean moved in slowly then, kissing you deeply, passionately, like you’d always dreamed he would. The movement of his hips pushed the seam of your jeans right across your clit, making you whimper with each slide. You could feel the bulge of his cock pressing against his denim and after minutes of pushing and pulling against him, you wanted so much more.

“What if we get caught?” you whispered against his lips.

Dean shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I got kicked out of a casino.”

You laughed, drawn back to his mouth like a moth to an out of control bonfire.

“Jeans,” Dean muttered against your lips. You nodded, staggering back with a giggle as you swayed against the camera screen.

Dean winked and unzipped your fly, tugging your panties and jeans down over your hips to your calves, tugging off a shoe. Your jaw dropped and you watched as he lifted his hips and pushed down his own boxers and jeans. He grabbed your waist again, and you straddled him. Unable to stop your moan, his name flew from your lips as you slid down on his cock.

“Holy fuck,” Dean groaned into your neck. “Christ, I knew you’d feel so good.”

“So. Good. God, Dean.” You rolled your hips and moaned. “Fuck. Gotta fuck me, Dean. Do it.”

Your lips met his as he thrusted up, his mouth silencing your moans. You pushed up on your tiptoes so you could rise and fall with him, finally giving into the motion and riding him on the squeaky photo booth seat.

The sounds of voices, slot machine bells, and casino music harmonized outside the red curtain but you could only hear Dean’s grunts, your own stifled moans, and the whimsical music playing inside the booth.

“Oh look honey, a photo booth,” a voice outside came nearer. You gasped and stilled your hips, moaning as Dean continued to thrust up into you. It felt too good and you slammed your lips against Dean’s as he groaned loudly.

“Are there...I think there are people in there!” the voice whispered to the other.

You clenched around Dean, wishing the onlookers would go away but also kinda getting off on the curiosity of people you couldn’t even see the faces off. Two sets of shoes peeked through the bottom of the curtain as the silent voyeurs waited for confirmation.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “There’s people...There’s people listening.”

Dean chuckled. “You like getting caught?” He leaned in and kissed you, pulling a cry from your throat. “I think you’re getting off on this,” he muttered. “They know I’m fucking you so good, they just wish they could see.”

“Dean,” you mouthed at his neck, your teeth latching onto his ear and biting down. He groaned and got his feet under him, rocking his pelvis against yours and sliding against your clit. “Oh god, oh god.”

The strangers whispered to each other affirmatively and the two sets of shoes turned and walked away. You breathed out in relief. “Almost caught us.”

“You liked it.” He nibbled on your ear, his voice deep and breathy. “Knowing those people were out there, listening to you ride me.” He thrusted up hard and you cried out, your fingers tightening in his shirt. “You make the hottest sounds, baby. They must’ve been so jealous, knowin’ I get to fuck you in here.”

You leaned in and sucked a dark mark on his neck, wanting him marked as yours for the whole weekend. Fuck, you wanted him to be yours forever.

“You thought about us before?” Dean growled, his hips fucking up against yours at a steady pace. “I get off thinking about you all the time.”

“Jesus, Dean,” you moaned. “Yes, Yes! I think about you. So much.”

Dean groaned, sucking your earlobe between his teeth. “Wanted you so bad. Wanted you to ride me, god, just like this.”

The seat below you started to creak loudly and in the back of your mind you hoped it wouldn’t break. Dean thrusted harder and faster, and you couldn’t even stop the pressure building inside as more people stopped by the red curtain.

“They’re...they’re…” you tried to warn Dean that more people were congregating outside the booth again. “They’re gonna…”

“C’mon, baby. Come,” Dean groaned as you began to tremble. “Gotta come with me. Let ‘em hear you come.”

“Fuck!” You moaned loudly, clenching tight around him as your orgasm spread through your body. You gasped and ground your hips against Dean’s, panting as he filled you up. Vaguely you could hear people outside the booth murmur congratulations to you, but you didn’t care as you slowly opened your eyes to find bright green ones looking right at you.

“Jackpot,” Dean grinned.

“Oh god, you’re such a dork.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard, earning a moan of approval as he kissed you back. “Wow, that..”

“Yeah,” he nodded, smoothing your hair back. “I’ve been waiting a long time for that.”

“Happy Birthday,” you smiled and kissed him softly once more. You staggered back against the booth, shimmying your pants back up over your hips.

“Fuck yes, happiest birthday ever,” he grinned as he tucked himself back into his pants and rezipped. “I know what we need now.”

“What?” you smiled, trying to fix your hair in the reflection of the photo screen.

“More drinks.”

You laughed and followed him out of the booth, twisting your foot into your shoe. “That can be arranged.” Thankfully no one was standing around gawking when you pushed the curtain aside.

“Holy shit!” Dean laughed, looking down at the photos he’d pulled from the slot in the booth’s wall. To your surprise there were two photo strips.

The first two photos were of your funny smiles, the third a look that you could only describe as fondness, followed by the last photo - Dean’s hand holding your chin as his lips grazed yours, your eyes fluttered shut. It was a beautiful picture; there was a tenderness to it than took your breath away.

“Holy shit!” you parroted as you looked at the other photos. Apparently one of the audience members had decided to leave you a gift because the second strip of photos were of you riding Dean. Your faces were scrunched in ecstasy, your head tipped back, Dean’s lips on your neck. Another one where your hips were lifted and you could see Dean’s cock where it was thrusting up inside you. The last photo…

“Damn,” you muttered, staring at the film in your hand. It was clearly the moment right before you’d come. Your fingers were twisted in Dean’s hair and his palm on your back, lips parted with unspoken promises, looking at each other like you weren’t even aware that there was a world outside the four foot booth. The look you shared was something much deeper than lust.

Dean slung his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple. “I do feel that way, you know?”

You looked up at him and smiled, moving your hand to the back of his neck as you pulled him down for a kiss of undeniable agreement.

“Alcohol?” you asked as you broke away a minute later.

“Let’s go to Caesar’s!” Dean’s hand slid into yours and you followed after him, tucking the two photo strips in your back pocket. You were going to keep those forever.

Drinks and poker at Caesars turned into shots at Bally’s, followed by pizza and beers at Planet Hollywood and before you knew it, you didn’t. The night became a blur of alcohol, gambling, and making out with Dean wherever you possibly could. You weren’t even embarrassed when you got kicked out of Bellagio for starting round two in the ladies room.

“This ‘s the perfec’ Vegas night,” you slurred at Dean as you wandered down The Strip. “We should go do more of the Vegas things now!”

“Yes!” Dean nodded before throwing his free arm in the air. “Vegas baby!”

At one point you were standing in front of the Bellagio fountain and laughing hysterically at Dean as he tried to spell _fountain_ out loud to anyone that would listen. You were drinking and making out there too. It was the most fun either of you had had in a very long time.

* * *

“Housekeeping!”

You woke with a start, a swell of pain slamming into you as soon as you opened your eyes. The midday sun was streaming in through the hotel room windows, the drapes pulled halfway back. You stumbled out of the bed, your palm pressed to the side of your head to still the throbbing.

“Noooo,” you whined at the locked hotel room door and the knocking housekeeper on the other side. “Don’t need it.”

“Okay, sorry ma’am,” the voice hummed before moving down the hallway.

“What the hell…” you gasped, shuffling past hamburger wrappers and beer bottles to fall back onto the mattress. You were startled when someone- oh good, okay it’s just Dean - snorted in his sleep and rolled over to his other side facing away from you. You were both naked, and you could tell from the ache between your legs that you’d gone for a rough round three after your photo booth performance and the interrupted bathroom stall incident. Flashes of kissing him in front of the Bellagio fountain appeared in your memory. You’d have smiled except it would have hurt to try.

Now that you were conscious your bladder pestered you to get up. You rolled to your side and nearly fell out of the bed, bracing yourself with weak hands against the carpet. You half crawled into the bathroom, finding your cosmetics strewn all over the floor and Dean’s wet clothes in the shower. You didn’t care about the mess as you used the toilet and then shuffled to the sink. Your stomach rolled with a wave of nausea and you pressed your forehead to the cold marble counter for a moment.

“So bright,” you hissed at the vanity lights at the top of the large mirror. “Never again alcohol. Never.” You ran your hands under the cool water and splashed your face, wishing your head would stop throbbing. God, you’d drank a lot. What happened to the end of the night?

“Never drink with Winchesters.” You fumbled for a hand towel, patting your face dry. “Stupid. Know better.”

As you dropped the towel and looked into the mirror something caught your eye. Your chest was covered in a random pattern of hickies, and your hair looked like a angry bird had been nesting for a full season. You couldn’t tell if your dark circles were from little sleep or your former smokey eye application. As you looked in the mirror it took you a few seconds to register what else was different.

You lifted your left hand and turned it, your heart beating faster as you stared at the shiny band on your left ring finger.

“Oh fuck.”

 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait. You and Dean did what in Vegas?! Dean’s birthday weekend continues…
> 
> FROM DEAN'S POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the amazing feedback and love for Part I, here is the sequel! 
> 
> This is for SPN Kink Bingo, Square Filled: Free Space and for SPN Fluff Bingo, Square Filled: Cuddling

“Dean. Dean! DEAN!”

“What the…” I roll over slowly, every cell in my body screaming _what the fuck_. The room is spinning. Oh why the hell...why is it so bright?

“Dean!”

I peak out of one eye and it hurts so bad, the fucking sun has apparently risen inside our hotel room it’s so damn bright. I close my eye and roll onto my back, taking a deep breath which leads to a painful cough. Why do I smell cigar smoke? I finally glance over and find Y/N pacing next to the bed. Oh yeah. Vegas.

She’s naked, staring down at me with her arms crossed and fuck she looks gorgeous, even if she looks as wrecked as I feel. A twinge of heat rolls in my belly at the sight of my marks all over her chest. Oh yeah, I remember going at it when we got back to the room. For some reason first we took a shower in our clothes. That part’s fuzzy. But the sex, oh yeah. Did security come warn us about noise? I rub my hands across my face, trying to shake off the worst hangover I’ve ever had. Shit, okay she’s really freaking out. What.

“What?” I grumble as I push myself up onto one elbow. Whoa, not a good idea. Room still spinning. Guess I’m still kinda drunk.

“I...do you…” Her eyes are wide and she looks equally freaked out and hopeful, if that’s possible. “Fuck, just look!”

She holds up her left hand and it takes me a few seconds to drag my eyes away from her naked tits and figure out what I’m looking at. There’s hickies all over her shoulders and chest but none on her hands. I don’t understand what the-

“Where’d you get that?” I ask slowly. She’s got a gold ring on her finger. It’s- she’s got _my mom’s_ ring on, the one that Dad kept, the one that’s been in that cigar box in the trunk of the Impala for thirty plus years. Why...

Without a word she kneels on the bed and crawls over to me, lifting my left hand. Sure enough, there’s my ring- the silver one my dad gave me -on my left ring finger. It takes me a second. Okay, it probably takes me a minute. She watches me play through it all, trying to understand.

“What the fuck,” I whisper, looking at our hands side by side. My ring had also been in the box in the Impala’s trunk; I couldn’t bring myself to toss it. Apparently at some point in the night, I’d decided it was time to give it a new purpose.

“Did we...?” I choke out. Rings. Rings on fingers. Left ring fingers. Again- what the fuck. “Get married?”

Her shoulders slump as she lays down next to me, the back of her hand covering her eyes. “I don’t know. I really...I don’t remember shit after the Bellagio.”

The room is quiet while I fight the swirling edges of reality and lay back down too. I want to roll over and touch her but I also want to run out of the room and head to sunny Mexico or somewhere else far far away. I remember getting kicked out of Bellagio after someone caught us fucking in the bathroom. I remember playing slots at Mirage, then more drinks at MGM, then the fountain- god, that had to have been around 4AM. Then we were gonna get burgers and I think I really wanted to go to Hooters and instead... _oh._

I sit straight up in the bed and tug the sheet around my waist, as if I need to hide my junk from her now. Hide it from _my wife._ What the actual fuck. “We have to...listen, I don’t know what this is, but I’m sorry, I don’t do marriage, ok? What the...this is...what the fuck is this?!”

Shit. Fuck shit god damn fuck! Now I’m pacing the room with the bed sheet around my waist and Y/N is sitting up with her face in her hands and her shoulders are shaking. Fuck, is she crying?

God damnit. I walk over and sit down next to her, pulling her hands down so she’ll tilt her head and look at me. “Yeah, so I, uh think I remember that we wanted burgers. So I said let’s go to Hooters.” She’s just staring at me with no recollection at all. Damn, she has no idea. She blacked out. I married her blacked out. “But you didn’t want to. So ummm, you suggested we get married instead. So I said sure, why the hell not.”

She’s staring back at me, her eyes wide as she switches between embarrassment and horror. I reach out for her but then someone starts knocking on the door. Before I can grab a hold of her arm, she bolts for the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

“Hold on!” I holler at the door. Where the fuck are my clothes? I dig a pair of jeans out of my bag and stumble into them before crossing the room and turning the lock.

“Hey.”

Sam’s here.

“Hey.” I hold the door open wider so he can come in. He’s got a bounce in a step like he got laid after living at a convent or something and...oh yeah. I’m slow right now, alright. It’s the distillery in my bloodstream.

“Dude, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Where’s Y/N?” Sam asks, looking around the room with a stupid judgey smirk. I realize the room’s a wreck. Her jeans are tossed on the couch, a shirt is hanging over a lamp shade, the bed looks like a tornado hit it, and there’s food wrappers and beer bottles scattered everywhere.

I scratch the back of my head as I go to grab a shirt. “Uh, she’s in the bathroom.”

Sam nods, hands in his pockets. “So you guys have a good night?”

I shrug, lifting a plaid to my nose. Eh, clean enough. I pull it over my t-shirt as I avoid meeting my brother’s eyes. “We’re having some trouble remembering.”

Sam laughs as he lowers his gigantor body into one of the side chairs. “Well I had a great night.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah Sam, kinda figured.”

I don’t want to know anything more, and Sam wouldn’t tell me the gritty anyways. He’s always kinda kept the details to himself even when I teased him about chicks when we were kids. He starts looking through his phone while I pretend to be going through my bag, even though I really want to knock on the bathroom door and get Y/N to talk to me. We gotta figure this out. Whatever this is. Did we seriously get drunk married in Vegas last night? This is crazy, even for us. I guess I don’t realize my thumb is spinning the silver ring, and like a fucking sonar my brother zooms onto the one thing that is new and different and I really didn’t want him to see.

“You’re wearing your ring from Dad.”

I look down at it, and then shove my hand into my pocket. Smooth. Unfortunately out of anyone in the world, Sam can read me like one of his fancy old books.

“Why?”

I shrug, turning away and searching through the bottles on the nightstand for a beer. I need some hair of the dog _now._ “Just cuz.”

Sam opens his mouth but I’m saved when Y/N opens the bathroom door. But before I have a second to crowd her back in there so we can fucking figure this out, Sam’s zeroes in on her left hand.

“Wait.” He stands up, holding his hands up in the air. “Why are you...Is that Mom’s ring?!”

“Gotta love your attention to detail, Sam,” she snaps, furiously shoving stuff into her bag. “Can’t get anything by you, Inspector Gadget.”

“Hey,” I grab her hand but she pulls away from me and for a second I think she’s gonna hit me. Yikes, maybe I deserve it. Please don’t smack me. Ok she’s not going to.  “Tell me why you’re pissed. Talk to me.”

“I’m not,” she replies. Fuck that, I know that bitchy tone.

“Yes, you are,” I sigh. I know this is fucked up, but I kinda love that she still has the ring on. She could’ve taken it off, she could’ve been disgusted by it. But she left the ring on. That’s...something. “We need to talk about this.”

“You sure? You sure you don’t just want to go along with it? Just let me be the idiot?”

“What?” I just stare at her because first of all, I still feel like death, and I’m sure she must too. And second, what?

“You wanted to get food but I’m the idiot that apparently thought marrying my best friend was a good idea!” She’s shaking, so pissed but I don’t know whose she’s mad at. “My best friend who I just had sex with for the first time! My best friend who is my partner and like the center of my whole god damn life, and I just suggested this major fucking decision of our lives and you just say sure, why not!” She’s practically yelling by the end of her tirade, except her voice is hoarse and there’s tears in her eyes. “I made this terrible choice and it was all a drunk mistake and apparently you didn’t want it!”

My jaw drops but before I can say anything Sam is at the door.

“I’m gonna just...I’ll be downstairs.”

I let the door click shut behind me before I speak as calmly as I can in consideration of the thundering pain in my temples.

“Okay, first of all, can you please just sit here for a second so I can shower and brush my teeth real quick? I feel like something died in my throat.”

She scrunches her nose and nods, and I hurry into the bathroom, rushing as quick as I can. I’m so relieved when I come out and she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. But her face is between her hands and when she looks up she’s got tears on her cheeks.

“Hey.” I go down on my knee in front of her- yeah yeah, I realize it’s ironic once I do it- moving her hands and nudging her chin up until she’ll meet my eyes. “Sweetheart, can we please just talk and freak out together?”

She smiles just a little, real cute, and then takes a shaky breath. I can’t stand it when she’s mad at me. Her hoarse yell from earlier is now a quiet whine. “This wedding bullshit, this isn’t...I don’t want us to be a joke.”

The room is quiet for a second and I try to gauge what’s the best thing to do or say. So I just go with my gut, like I do with hunting. “You know, I told you last night that us, you know how we were in that picture?” I nod along with her. “Like together, when we were looking at each other? When I look at you, this thing between us, it’s real for me. I feel that way too.”

I get another little smile at the mention of the photo booth pictures. Her lip is trembling and when she looks up she’s hopeful but still confused. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I take a deep breath. “This is on me too.” We gotta get some food. I gotta eat. “Can we please go get some breakfast and then talk about how...what do we wanna do?”

“Think we can find somewhere that has bacon?” She smiles, and damn. There’s the girl I fell for; the one who can take down two vamps at a time, the one who rocked my world last night, the one who makes everyday worth living. God I’m a sap.

“Absolutely.”

We’re both quiet while we eat, Sam droning on about some history of the hotel and where he and the chick Cindy or whatever went last night and then he launches into something that both of us look up for.

“You guys know you can get your ‘marriage’ annulled today? If you want,” Sam offers. It pisses me off when he uses his fingers like quotations around marriage like there’s no way this thing between Y/N and I couldn’t ever be legit.

She and I make eye contact and then I look back down at my plate. It hurts when she asks him how.

“We need to find your marriage license, and we just go back to the place that did the wedding. They can annul it.”

“Okay,” she nods. Wow, the bacon on my plate is interesting. Look how the syrup runs into it, ooh salty and sweet. “Dean, do you...do you think we should go?”

I look up and she’s still wearing Mom’s ring. We’ve been mobile for almost two hours and she’s still wearing the ring. And I can still feel the weight of my ring on my left finger.

“Do we?” I ask. God I sound like I smoked a pack of Marb Reds last night.

We’re kinda doing this staring contest thing and I’m trying to read her mind as I figure out what the fuck I want to. Suddenly Sam laughs louder than necessary. Idiot.

“What?” I glare at Sam.

The asshole pushes his chair back as he stands, pulling a twenty from his wallet. “At least you guys know you’re in love with each other now.”

I nearly spill the coffee I was about to drink. You’re gonna pay for that, _Samantha._ He waves as he goes off to learn about hotels or fuck some blonde bimbo or whatever this pod person Vegas version of Sam wants to do, leaving Y/N and I still hungover and confused. Did we...did I tell her I love her? By the equally startled yet confused look on her face, I don’t think I did. At least not sober. Maybe when we got married. God this is so. damn. fucked.

I shovel the rest of my food into my mouth and then grab my wallet. I pull out some cash to cover our meals and a slip of blue paper comes out with the bills. “Huh.”

She looks up at the noise. “What?”

“Looks like…” I unfold the paper to find that it is indeed what Sam was saying we needed. “It’s our wedding license.”

I pass the paper to her desperate grabby hands and she chokes when she sees we put our real legal names, birthdates, and social security numbers. And under Y/N’s information where it says new last name, she had handwritten (albeit sloppily) Winchester.

“Whoa,” she breathes out, staring down at the paper.

“Yeah,” I nod. I don’t know what else to say. I watch as she folds the page up and hands it to me. I return it to my wallet and then we sit there a little longer and drink coffee before I decide it’s just not helping.

“Excuse me, Miss?” I call out to the passing waitress. “Can we get two micheladas please?”

Y/N groans when the orange drink is placed in front of her. “Really Dean?”

“Yeah, really. It’ll help.” And whatta ya know, I’m right. As usual. A few tasty remedies and my hangover is fading into a nice buzz. Her cheeks are a little flushed and she’s smiling now, some of the worry gone as we accept what’s in front of us.

“Whatcha wanna do?” I down the rest of my drink.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

I raise a brow because I’m thinking sex but she laughs. Hey, at least I got her to laugh again.

“I wanna take a shower, ya dork.”

She lets me slip an arm around her waist in the elevator and kinda hold her against me. This still feels right even if I don’t know what this is. Is she really my wife? Do I even want a wife? I’m Dean Winchester! I’m a ramblin’ man! I ain’t getting married or settling down ever.  
  
Except I did.

“I’m going to shower,” she says again once we’re in the room. I nod and sit down on the edge of the bed with the tv remote.

“Alright.”

The whole time she’s gone I keep going over this in my head. We got married. But we were wasted. And in Vegas. Everyone does dumb shit in Vegas! Like get married when you’re blacked out drunk stupid. They make movies and TV shows and probably books about this exact stupid thing. But we also fucked in an arcade photo booth in front of strangers last night. Not the best choices.

Apparently I’m still watching the casino’s TV menu when the bathroom door opens. The scent of her shampoo and steam comes billowing out and I’m not at all ashamed to say I get a little hard from it. She always smells good and she looks so pretty in jeans and a t-shirt. Like she’s never been one of those girls that looked prettier if she dressed up. Like yeah, she looked smoking hot when we had to lift that diamond at that museum benefit thing. But right now, dressed normal, she’s probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The kinda girl I’d marry if I ever married someone.

Fuck. How drunk am I?

“What?” she asks, the worry line between her brows scrunched up.

“Nothin’,” I shake my head and go back to the TV. Oops, still watching the menu. “What do you want to do tonight? It’s almost eight.”

“Wow, day flies when you’re wasted,” she sighs, plopping down onto the mattress next to me. Her left hand is on her thigh and the ring is shining up at me like, _you must decide Dean, you must decide._ But I smile. She’s still wearing the ring. She’s had hours to take it off but she’s still wearing the ring. And I’m still wearing mine.

So I kiss her. Of course I do. A high pitched squeak flies out of her but I think it’s cuz she’s surprised, and then that left hand is moving up my shoulder to rest on the back of my neck and then it’s just so easy. Last night it had been kinky and and rough (what I can remember was hot as fuck though.) Tonight she deserves better.

I kick my boots off and then drop my jacket, our lips separating when they have to as I try to get her naked too. Clothes are flung to the floor, okay, so both beds are about to be ruined, and then I’m following her up the mattress.

We haven’t done it like this yet. Well, yeah we were horizontal last night but we’re both somewhat sober now and also, it’s different. Like in the photo booth when we first kissed and there were a few seconds where we kinda looked at each other and everything made sense about us making out. But yeah, now. Having her under me naked, I get to take my time.

She moans and tips her head back as my lips move down her neck, painting a trail with my tongue for my lips to follow. I’m getting so hard at the noises she’s making. Like, this is so much better than when we were drunk, Christ did she just buck up against me from just my hands on her? I don’t remember her nipples being this sensitive, so I play with them a little until she gasps and tugs on my hair. When I look up she’s staring at me like she’s surprised.

“You alright?” I crawl back up to her and kiss her softly. She nods, leaning up to kiss me back. Her mouth opens with mine and our tongues slide together. I let her roll us over and hell yes, god damn yes I love her being on top of me like this.

Then we kinda just grind together, making out and hands and lips everywhere. God she’s fucking hot. I’ve known this for a long time obviously, but the last twenty-four hours have proven it.

“Dean,” she whispers against my lips, “I want you.”

Well yeah, hope so. “Me too, sweetheart.” I start to roll us and her legs part just perfectly for me to fit right there in between. I smirk into the next kiss knowing what I want first.

Each little moan is like a badge of honor, like I got a scout patch that I collect, all the way down her neck, around those perfect nipples, down her stomach and then aww yeah. Just gonna set up shop for a bit.

“Fuck!” is the first moan I get as I lick her open. I groan, happy to do this for hours if this is how good she tastes. I know I’m good at going down on girls, I’ve been doing it a long time. But this, it’s Y/N, so it’s kinda special this time. She’s really sensitive and with each lick and suck I find out what she wants and oh god I’m so hard against the mattress when she anchors her fingers in my hair and pulls.

“Feel good, baby?” I look up for a second and find her just wrecked. Her hair is sticking up from where’s she’s been thrashing her head on the pillow and her lips are shiny and bitten. Damn I’m a lucky guy.

“C’mere.” Her fingers grapple for my shoulders and if she wants me up there then yes, absolutely yes. She moans into the kiss and mmmm, I know she can taste her sweetness on my lips which I’m happy to share. Her hands move between us and she’s shaking a little as she grabs my cock and uhhhhhh yeah keep doing...that...

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” She’s so hot and wet as I slide inside her and oh fuck! Can I just-stay-here forever. Just stay a sec. Okay gotta, oh _fuck._ We’re moving and I just...how have we not been doing this all along-feels so good-keep doing oh fuck-yes there oh-fuck wow she’s being loud I hope she’s getting close, “Yes! Dean!” oh Christ - I know she is by that clench-shit oh god kiss me-again-yes mmmm bite me again-fuck-yes yes yes-oh my god she’s coming- I did that, I’m making her come like that fuck yes baby- can’t wait-fuck-there-yes _now now now now now._

I’m shaking over her and groaning her name into her neck, fuck I’ve never come like this. Oh god, she’s shaking too. Deep breath, deep breath. Whoa. Whoa. Breathe.

I’m panting but I try to kiss her, try to eat up the moan that she responds with. Still inside her and Christ, it’s like she’s hotter and wetter and damnit I wish I could stay hard just to be inside her all the time.

Another kiss and then I roll over onto my back, pulling her with me. She cuddles up so perfect and fits her head onto my shoulder. She’s so soft and warm pressed against me, we kinda just float for a while. I feel like I could just lay here forever holding her, feeling her arm tight across my chest, her sweet smelling hair and skin. We exhale deeply together, and it all comes rushing back when I remember again- we’re in Vegas and we got drunk married.

“So we should probably get an annulment in the morning,” she says quietly as if she’s reading my mind.

The room is quiet for a minute before I hum. “Or we don’t.”

“What?” She tilts her head to look up at me. “You wanna stay married to me?”

“I know this makes no sense. It’s probably not smart but when the fuck have I ever make good choices?” She shrugs and smiles a little, and I don’t even want to know which of my brilliant poor decisions she’s remembering. You know what? I had my reasons every time, I ain’t apologizing now. “Anyways I just know, through and through, that I, well I’m in love with you. Okay? And maybe, maybe I needed this trip to figure that out.”

She’s grinning now and nods. “I love you too.”

“Cool,” I nod, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and then pulling her tighter in my arms. “Good. Well, then I want to try. Besides it’s not like it affects the job or our daily lives. We don’t pay taxes or anything.”

She laughs and this fucking rush of happiness just floats up from my toes like a really good buzz. “Taxes are not a good reason to stay married.” She pauses and giggles, her fingers tracing my tattoo. “There is one good thing- at least I know my new last name.”

The smile on her face- fuck, I swear I’m not gonna cry. “You cool with being a Winchester?”

“That’s all I ever wanted.”

Damn I am so fucking lucky. I kiss her, kiss my wife, rolling over her to make love to her a second time, like I should’ve on our wedding night. We don’t remember, but it doesn’t mean we can’t start the marriage off right.

* * *

We meet Sam the next morning for breakfast; apparently he’d spent the night with what’s her name again. It’s not like he’s even being himself, drinking too much and shacking up and making weird ass choices.

Ha! Who am I kidding.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks after we order. Y/N and I both nod before starting a conversation about a potential hunt in Arizona. Been a while since we went after a chupacabra.

Our food arrives and the conversation pauses while we eat. Sam’s looking back and forth between us while I’m peppering my eggs and she’s sipping coffee. “So you guys good now?”

I glance over at her and our eyes meet and we both smile. She nods, her left hand resting on my forearm for a moment so Sam can see that she’s still wearing the ring- _her_ ring.

“We’re good.”

“Okay,” Sam says slowly. “So you’re gonna stay married then?”

I nod once. The bacon at this 60’s diner place is so good. Not too crispy, just salty enough.

“And you guys are sure it’s legal?”

“Sam!” I scold. “Just...let it be, dude.”

“Oh come on, Dean. You guys got _married._ You can’t act like that’s not a big deal.”

I look over at Y/N and she’s already watching me, and I can see a tiny bit of fear still there.

“It’s a very big deal,” I smile at her. “I’ve got the hottest wife in the world. Everybody’s gonna be so fucking jealous.”

Sam just rolls his eyes but she bursts out laughing. Her mouth tastes like strawberry jam and coffee and I really wanna make out, busy restaurant be damned.

“You know, it’d be nice to remember it,” she adds as we go back to our food. “Our wedding, no matter how drunk and funny it may have been.”

“Hmmm, your birthday is coming up.” I bite my lip at the idea and damn, I love how flustered she gets when I do little stuff like that. “Wanna come back and renew our vows?”

Sam’s rolling his eyes so hard it’s gotta hurt but she just leans in and kisses me again. “I’d love to, Mr. Winchester.”

Damn we are so cheesy and I fucking love it. “It’s a plan, Mrs. Winchester.”

Sam changes the subject back to the hunt. He sets his tablet on the table and we start talking about the case again. We’re debating if it’s a chupacabra based on the murders when an older woman appears at the front of our booth.

“Dean! Y/N! How are you crazy kids?” She’s got wild blonde curly hair and she’s wearing a bright pink three piece suit. A man with an equally horrible cheap turquoise suit walks up behind her, beaming when he notices us.

“Hey! It’s our two favorite newlyweds!”

I look over at Y/N but her eyes are wide with confusion and wariness. It’s never a good sign when strangers know our real names. Or that we got drunk married.

“Uhhhh, do we know you?” I ask the weird people. So weird. Who the hell dresses like that. Oh and there’s all the pink glitter on the woman’s face too. Are they street performers? Must be. They’d fit right in on The Strip.

“Haha, very funny!” The chick laughs. “It’s Sonny and Cher! We married you two the other night!”

Sam is snickering but I take Y/N’s hand. She immediately squeezes mine and I can tell, not even looking at her, that she’s totally weirded out. Which, duh.

“Okaaay,” I nod slowly. This can’t be the real Sonny and Cher. I mean, I think Sonny died and Cher looks way older than this chick. I think. Although meeting Cher would be kind of cool. Dude. Focus. “Well no offense, but we’re having trouble remembering. But I guess thanks for the hospitality.”

The two of them, who are starting to look more and more like circus freaks going to a bad 80’s prom, start cackling.

“That’s too bad, it was a beautiful wedding!” The dude laughs. “Never seen two people so madly in love. Told us you were monster hunters too! Said it right in your vows!”

Shit. Sam’s not laughing now and Y/N’s hand is so tight around mine it kinda hurts.

“Oh, that’s funny. We like to make stuff up sometimes,” I try to laugh it off. Y/N and Sam join in, as if it will make this any less weirder than it already is. “Again, sorry we don’t remember.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” the woman winks and she actually looks a tiny bit familiar now the more I look at her. “Just come on by the chapel and we’ll take care of that!”

“Yeah?” Y/N asks warily. I know she’s planning the three seconds it would take to get to the silver knife tucked in her boot. She’s right, we’re gonna need to test Donny and Marie here and make sure they’re not monsters. “How?”

The chick claps her hands together. “We’ve got it taped, of course!”

Y/N and I open our mouths at the exact same time.

“Oh fuck.”

 

_**Part III coming soon!** _


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean finally discover what happened that drunk night in Vegas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the following Bingos:  
> Kink: Public sex  
> BTZ: Kink  
> Fluff: In vino veritas  
> Song Bingo: Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis

The flashing neon sign for The Chapel of Rock ‘n Soul appeared as the Impala turned into the parking lot that afternoon. You were heading out of town for the chupacabra hunt in Arizona but figured a stop on the way to watch the video of your drunk wedding was necessary. Sam teased from the backseat, asking hypothetical questions about your vows and eccentric officiants. Dean just rolled his eyes but you picked at your fingernails nervously as you looked through the windshield at the white stucco building. It was trimmed with purple awnings and bright spotlights, a row of fake white roses lining a front walkway. A huge painted mural along the side of the building featured the real Sonny and Cher in fully 70’s garb. You couldn’t help but laugh at the gaudiness of it all. For a Vegas wedding chapel, it was fucking special.

“Hey you two!” Sonny called out as the bright purple double doors closed behind you. The lobby walls were lined with purple wallpaper and white love seats shaped like hearts angled towards the door. A huge portrait of the real Cher in all her feathery skintight glory hung above the registration desk. From the ceiling hung hundreds of records overlapped in some kind of musical chandelier extravaganza, a strobe light shining in the middle. Portraits of Elvis, BB King, Clapton, Prince, and oh...there it is. Halfway through the room was a black and white shot of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page rocking out on stage, framed in a black sparkly frame with a couple of signatures. Yep. You didn’t need to remember the night before to know that photo would’ve confirmed this was the best place in Vegas for Dean to get married.

Sonny grinned as he looked up at Sam, offering his hand. “And finally the best man makes it here! These two almost didn’t go through with it without you, Sam!”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam nodded, his mocking smile softening as he met Dean’s glance. Dean shrugged and looked down at you. “Sorry I missed it.”

“Well come on back, kids!” Sonny gestured to an adjacent room through another set of purple double doors. “Cher, honey! The Winchesters are here!”

“Oh jeez,” you groaned under your breath as Cher ran up to you and pulled you into a rose scented hug. The Winchesters. You were a _Winchester_. God it felt good to hear that but what the fuck is happening, you worried. Dean’s fingers tightened around yours as you walked into the chapel. The far wall was painted purple with cheap lavender chiffon draped from the ceiling, silver striped wallpaper on the walls. Three rows of white chairs flanked a bright purple runner down a short aisle. A row of white electric guitars lined the back of the altar. The walls featured photos of both the famous Sonny and Cher and your new friends.

Sonny wrapped his arm around his partner, their sequined suits winking at you with the iminiment reveal of the recording.You looked up at the huge screen that was hanging behind the altar. It was paused on the beginning of what looked like a ceremony in the same room. Sam and Dean settled down on either side of you in the front row as you stared at the screen.

“Here we go! Let’s see your wedding you two!” Cher grinned, lifting the remote and pressing play.

As soon as the electric guitar version of the wedding march began on the screen you felt a little woozy, like you were having an out of body version of deja vu. You watched as Dean sauntered down the aisle, shaking hands with Sonny when he got to the front. To you it was clear that he was drunk but Dean could hold his alcohol. To a stranger he wouldn’t seem completely wasted.

You watched with wide eyes as you followed him moments later. You were holding a bouquet of white roses and grinning ear to ear as you approached Dean. Your anxiety softened when you saw the look on his face. In all the time you’d known Dean, you’d never seen him so happy. Even if the rest of this was a mistake, seeing him look at you like that was all worth it. The real Dean sitting next to you took your hand and squeezed it, both of you taking a deep breath.

When drunk you reached the front of the aisle you leaned in and kissed him, laughing when you parted.

“Wanna marry me?” Dean chuckled on screen.

“Hell yeah,” you nodded, swaying in place. “Wanna marry me?”

“Definitely,” Dean grinned. “Been wishin’ you were mine for years.”

On the screen Sonny began to talk but you ignored the scene as you gasped, tightening your grip on Dean. Suddenly _everything_ \- the drunkenness, the casinos, the alcohol, the sex- all of it came flooding back like a loud trainwreck you were afraid to see but couldn’t stop. Dean was staring at you with wide eyes when you turned to him.

“You remember?”

“Yup. You remember?”

“Yep.” You squeezed your eyes closed. “Oh fuck. The Bellagio.”

**48 HOURS AGO**

“We look so hot in these pictures,” you gushed as you fanned the photo booth pics out on the bar in front of you. Planet Hollywood was bustling for midnight on a Thursday. You giggled as Dean fed you a bite of pizza. You’d been on a binge to Caesar’s and Bally’s, downing more shots in an hour then you’d probably drink during a regular night out. Food was needed.

“Of course we do, we’re hot,” Dean replied with a mouth full of pizza. “We should like, fuck in all the photo booths in America.” He swallowed, his eyes lighting up with a new idea. “Actually no, we should get a camera and fuck!”

“Okay!” you nodded, totally on board with the idea as you took another bite of his pizza slice even though you had your own. “And we can make sex videos on our phones!”

Dean’s eyes were wide as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. He took a drink of beer and then peered at you as seriously as he could considering he was pretty drunk for Winchester standards.

“You’re like the best girl I’ve pretty much ever known ever, you know?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. “Better keep me happy then!”

“Yeah, how do I do that?” Dean ignored the glares of the bartender as he kissed your neck, prompting some moans that were probably indecent for your current location. “Pizza and beer?”

“ _Annnnnd_ orgasms,” you hummed, turning your face to kiss him, tasting the tart marinara and spice on his tongue.

Dean chuckled and pulled some cash out of his wallet, tugging you out of your seat before you could finish your slice. “C’mon, we have more Vegas to see.” You slid the photobooth pics back into your back pocket and followed Dean out the door.

Your luck at playing craps was long gone after another hour at the Bellagio. But still you accepted more drinks, relishing in Dean’s hold as he wrapped his arms around you to blow lucky on the die. After losing $200 you gave up, ready to find something else to do. With a smirk that only lead to trouble Dean tugged you away from the casino floor and into the shiny elevator. You stumbled out of the metal doors onto the third floor which was the highest you could access without a room key.

“Where are we going?” you whispered as loud as most people’s outside voices.

“Shhh!” Dean teased, looking up and down the hallway for something. “We’re seeing Vegas.”

You started giggling when he tugged on your hand and led you to the end of the floor. He pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom with a wide hand. He whistled loudly as the two of you shuffled into the room, the noise echoing off the white tile. You crouched down to confirm there were no strange feet in the stalls, and then slid the lock shut on the public door.

“You haven’t fucked me in like two hours,” you boldly pushed him back until his ass was pressed against the marble counter.

“That’s why we’re in here, sweetheart,” he smiled, “plus I totally know you have a thing for fucking in public.”

“No I don’t!” you gasped, totally lying.

“Yes you do! You’ve totally got a public sex kink!” he replied, tucking back a rogue piece of your hair. “Gonna prove it too.”

All of your stupid drunk teasing was over as he grabbed you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you. Your giggles faded to loud groans as you worked open his belt buckle and then his jeans, your mouths breaking apart for deep shaky breaths before slamming against each other again. You unzipped your jeans and helped Dean as he tugged them down, your ass hitting the cold marble as Dean lifted you by the hips and dropped you onto the counter.

“Dean!” you moaned as he pushed inside you, grateful that the teasing and flirting all night had kept you wet. Your fingers grappled for his shoulders to hold onto as he fucked you hard across the counter. Your thighs stuck to the cold marble and your ass squeaked as his force pushed you back. You pressed a hand back against the mirror to keep yourself from sliding, and then gasped as you caught a glimpse of the two of you. Dean chuckled when he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“Over,” he instructed, pulling you onto your feet and then turning you, gently pressing your front onto the chilly marble. You grasped the edges of the sink and screamed as he slammed into you this time, his bright green eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Watching the two of you fuck over the counter made you lose your control quickly, a powerful orgasm racing through your shaking body as you moaned into your forearm. Twice now Dean had given you the best sex of your life, and you hadn’t even made it to a bed. Dean groaned and fucked you harder through it, your eyes locked on each other as he followed with his own loud orgasm.

“Oh shit!” you screeched as a heavy fist shook the bathroom door.

“Security!” a voice called out. The door shook again as someone tested the lock, the wood rattling under the grip of an impatient security guard. The rush of adrenaline you usually felt on hunts lit in your chest and you looked up in the mirror, meeting Dean’s eyes with fear.

“Shit!” Dean pulled out, and the two of you tugged your pants and underwear up. He looked around wildly as he came up with a plan.

“Uhhh...sorry.” He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on your t-shirt, ignoring your gasp of irritation. He wrapped an arm around you and dragged you to the door. “Just play along.”

“Sir, ma’am, I’m going to need you to come downstairs,” the stern security guard stated when Dean opened the door. It took every bit of control you had left not to laugh at his combover.

“Hey man, I’m sorry for locking the door,” Dean calmly replied. “My wife here, she’s real sick. Been throwin’ up. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed or gettin’ sick downstairs.”

The security guard looked you up and down with concern. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, no.” Dean shook his head, glancing down at you with a furrowed brow of fake concern. You stared at him for a second, remembering that he was a great actor and an even better liar. “She- she just needs to go lay down.”

“Yes, I think it’s best you leave,” the guard cautiously responded. He glanced at the wet cotton that was clinging to your chest and stomach and then glanced at Dean with trepidation before offering a tentative hand of concern to you. “Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?”

“My husban-” you slurred, “he’s da best. Take good care a’me.” A fake hiccup erupted from your chest. “He’s gonna…he’s gonna take me to bed or lose me forever!” You smiled and then coughed, pretending to gag as you dropped your head to Dean’s shoulder.

“Okay, thanks Officer,” Dean smiled as the guard let you by, pulling your limp body towards the elevators. “Have a good night.”

You waggled your fingers at the security guard. “Byeeeeee!”

Once the elevator doors closed you straightened up and looked down, scoffing bitterly at your wet shirt. Dean sighed in relief.

“Sorry, had to think quick,” he shrugged. “You look good in a wet t-shirt though. And you’re a very good fake wasted person.”

You poked his chest with your pointer finger. “I’m a very good con woman. And you know what, Dean! After being freshly fucked, that was an excellent performance.”

Dean shook his head, smirking. “Take me to bed or lose me forever?”

“Yep, that makes you Goose,” you laughed. “And me Meg Ryan!” You frowned as you remembered Goose’s demise. “That’s not good though. Umm maybe you should be Maverick and I’ll be the professor lady.”

Dean laughed as the doors opened. He took a step in front of you and turned before grabbing your hand and belting out in song. “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain! Too much love drives a man insane!”

“Oh my god, you dork,” you laughed. You joined in with him as you followed him through the casino singing at the top of your lungs. “You broke my will, oh what a thrill! Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”

Almost getting caught fucking in a public bathroom in the Bellagio had sobered you up slightly, so you followed Dean down The Strip again, still singing off key to the grimaces and laughter of other tourists. Dean pulled you into The Mirage where you played slots for a while, followed by a pickup buzz of more shots of tequila at MGM. You grabbed margaritas to go and walked the strip, cheering at random people and singing covers of songs from Top Gun.

“Let’s wait…” you whined and pointed at the dark water in front of the Bellagio. Dean groaned as you kissed him sloppily. “The foundin, it’s gonna come on baby! We have to!!”

“Nah,” Dean shook his head, squinting at his watch. “‘s too late.”

Your sobriety was long gone once again and you were unsteady as you stomped your foot. “But I want it to be foundin time!”

“F-O-U-N-T-A-I-N!” Dean spelled, raising a brow at you as he corrected you. He burst out laughing at your bitch face and leaned against the cement barrier as he laughed. “You can’t say fountain.”

“You can’t!” you pouted. “The foundins love me. I’ve seen ‘em.”

“We saw ‘em earlier! Before we were drunk!” Dean exclaimed. “Remember, before? I can spell anyways, jus’ in case. F-O-U-N-T-A-I-N!”

A couple walking past snickered at the two of you and you joined in, yelling in their direction. “F-O-U-N-T-A-I-N!”

You couldn’t stop laughing, nearly bent in half as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. Dean suddenly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you tight against him, dragging you down the road.

“Why we leaving foundin?” you pouted. “I didn’t even get to sing our song at it!”

“Cops,” Dean replied calmly, his calm hunter demeanor locking into place at the threat. You looked back over your shoulder at the two police officers that had slowed as they watched the two of you ramble off down the strip. “Let’s not get arrested right now, sweetheart. Sam’d be pissed if he has to stop fuckin’ what’s her face and come get us.”

You burst out laughing again, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Sam and all his Vegas chicks! He’s bein’ such a whore! He gets it though, cuz Sam.” You smiled and nodded affectionately. “He...Sam, he’s funny. Weird too. But he nice. Sammy's nice. We should call him!”

“Okay, but first I’m hungry.” Dean paused, whining a little. “Let’s go get burgers! Hooters! Yes! C’mon, we gotta go. I’mma find a cab.”

Over his shoulder flashed a digital billboard. Your eyes lit up as you carefully read the bright neon ad.

“No, no Hooters,” you shook your head. You pointed to the billboard which changed to an ad for a daytime walking tour as Dean turned.

“What? Why you wanna go on a tour?”

“No! Stupid thing!” You grumbled. “It said we should go get married instead of cheeseburgers!”

“Billboard said?” Dean looked from you to the billboard and back again, confused.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking up at him. “Wanna marry me?”

Dean paused as if he was contemplating whether he should get bacon or just cheese on his burger. He shrugged and then nodded. “Okay, sure. Let’s go!”

An hour later you were walking towards Dean and Sonny. Cher had smoothed down your wayward hair, shoved some white flowers in your hands and then given you a little nudge. Dean was bouncing from foot to foot as the electric guitar version of the wedding march lead you down the aisle. Yeah, you were drunk. Wasted. But staring at the handsome hunter in his ripped jeans, boots, and canvas jacket with a bright purple boutonniere you knew you wanted so much more than just a Vegas weekend with him.

When you reached the front you leaned in and kissed Dean, laughing when you parted.

“Wanna marry me?” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah,” you nodded, swaying a little in place. Dean’s fingers tightened on your waist and you shivered. “Wanna marry me?”

“Definitely,” Dean nodded, biting down on his lip. “Been wishin’ you were mine for years.”

At his drunk admission and you realized he wanted this just as much as you did. “Me too,” you nodded, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. The two of you parted to parrot the vows after Sonny, and when he asked if there was anything else you wanted to add Dean took a deep breath.

“I love you,” Dean said, his beautiful green eyes clear and proud as he smiled at you. “Probably shoulda told ya that before Vegas, and all this, but I do. I just...marryin’ you is nice cuz I wish I can keep you.”

“Same,” you nodded. “Wanna keep you. You’re gonna be my hot as fuck, always so sweet to me husband.”

Dean snickered. “My badass hot as fuck monster killer wife.”

Sonny laughed and you looked up in surprise; you’d completely forgotten he was there.

“Monster killer badass husband,” you smiled, your fingers rotating the ring you’d placed on his ring finger as you linked your fingers with his. “Fucking hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Hottest wife ever,” Dean hummed his approval, pulling you tighter against him. “Can’t wait to get you back to our bed. Make you scream.”

“Okay!” Sonny chuckled. “Well, by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada and by the greatest music ever, _rock n’ soul_ , I now pronounce you husband and wife! Dean, you may kiss your bride.”

You giggled as Dean wrapped his arms around you, leaning you backwards in a deep kiss then pulling away with an obnoxious smack. As you parted with a grin a song came over the speakers.

 _You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain_  
_Too much love drives a man insane_  
_You broke my will, oh what a thrill_  
_Goodness gracious great balls of fire_

 

You laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, leaning against Dean as you staggered back down the aisle hand in hand. Cher was grinning ear to ear as she tossed white rose petals at the end of the path and you giggled at Dean as he kissed you again.

“Did you tell them to play that?” you laughed as the song played out. “It’s like, not romantic at all.”

“Yeah it is! It’s about fucking!” Dean grinned. “Besides it’ll be ours now.” He took a breath and slid his hand along your cheek. “Everything is ours now.”

“Mmmmm,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Our hotel room bed too?”

“Especially the hotel bed,” he growled. You barely heard Sonny and Cher excuse themselves as Dean pushed you against the wall of the chapel and kissed you until you were gasping for air.

You stayed and had a celebratory toast with Sonny and Cher, shooting the shit and learning about their lives as traveling sales people, street performers, and now Las Vegas wedding chapel owners. Sonny and Cher were actually their real names and the reason they’d been introduced thirty years before. Maybe it was all the alcohol, but you felt close to them. After all, they were the two witnesses to your and Dean’s wedding. After hugs all around, you and Dean staggered to a cab as the sky started to lighten with a new day.

As soon as you got to the motel room you made an announcement. “I think we need our own foundin, since it didn’t play and I love Bellagio foundin and it’s our wedding day.”

Dean nodded seriously as he kicked his boots across the room. “Yeah, you are so right.” He looked around the room and then his eyes lit up with an idea. “The shower! Let’s make it into the fountain!”

“Yes!” you cheered, throwing your hands up in the air. “I knew I married you for a reason!” You laughed as you tugged your jeans down and tossed them behind you, pushing past him pantsless into the bathroom and through the glass shower doors. You twisted the faucet on the gray tiled shower wall, gasping when the cold water hit your chest. “Holy fuck! This foundin is fuckin’ cold!”

Dean laughed hysterically, his hands at his waist as he steadied himself. “Need warm water, sweetheart.” You stumbled out of the shower and watched as he turned the faucet to warmer water and then stepped in fully clothed. “See?”

“No clothes are more fun,” you smirked, slowly stripping your damp shirt over your head. Dean’s eyes widened and he nodded silently, stripping his own shirts and dropping them into a wet heap on the floor of the shower. You stripped in the middle of the bathroom while Dean stripped in the shower. Once you were both naked he finally pushed the faucet shut and staggered out towards you.

“Haven’t fucked me in hours,” you reminded him, smiling as you saw his eyes darken. “And now I’m your wife.”

“You are,” Dean nodded. He followed you as you walked backwards out of the bathroom and towards the bed. “My hot wife. And it’s our wedding night right now.”

The dawn light was started to stream through the floor length curtains but you didn’t correct him. You stopped, letting him step up close enough until his damp chest was flush against yours. “Well then, you better fuck me, husband.”

You were giggling from surprise as you fell onto your back on the mattress within seconds, his mouth trailing down your neck and chest. His teeth nibbled into your skin as he sucked marks and bruises, spurred on as you moaned loudly. Your lips met in feverish sloppy kisses and you hitched your thigh over his hip, grinding against him.

“C’mon husband, want you to fuck me,” you begged. Dean chuckled darkly, his lips wrapping around your nipples, your hands in his hair as he moved back and forth, leaving marks across your skin. “Dean!”

“Fuck, so bossy,” he teased. “Bossy wife. I like markin’ you up though cuz mine.” His teeth gently nipped at the soft skin of your breasts.

“Yeah,” you gasped, nodding as his fingers trailed down your body and attempted to find your clit. “Later.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean’s groan outmatched yours as he slid inside you. His fist knocked into the headboard as he slid out and then slammed back inside you, pulling moans and screams from you as you clutched at him. Each thrust pushed you up the bed until your head smacked the headboard.

“Flip over,” you growled as you twisted your leg under Dean’s and flipped you both. His hands tightened on your waist as you started to ride him hard and fast in chase of sixty seconds of perfection. The headboard smacked against the wall but you didn’t register anything was wrong until someone banged on the other side. You paused, giggling as you looked down at Dean.

“Oops.”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot too,” Dean smirked. You leaned down and kissed him, wrapping yourself around him as you rode him with a deeper sway of your hips. Dean’s fingers nearly bruised you as he flipped you over again, fucking you faster until the person on the other side of the wall gave up on their insistent, ineffective knocking.

“Dean!” you cried out as you came, your head flung back as Dean buried his face in your neck. You held onto him tight as he kept searching for his orgasm, over stimulated but finally coming minutes later as you leaned in and nibbled on his left nipple.

“Fuck!” Dean groaned, his voice hoarse as he trembled on top of you. “Oh fuck.” He spilled deep inside you, your own pleasure cresting at the closeness.

“Damn,” you gasped as Dean rolled off of you and onto his back. He nodded, swiping his hand across his face and into his hair. “We’re good at that.”

With a smile on your face you rolled over into his arms. You both quickly passed out, your mind fuzzy as you slid into dreams of dancing with Dean under a fountain made of purple and white rose petals.

**NOW**

With hugs and goodbyes to Sonny and Cher, promises to follow them on Instagram, and a link to your wedding video sent to your email, you and the boys returned to the Impala and headed south to Arizona. You laughed every time Dean shouted “Great balls of fire!” until Sam got annoyed, like Sam super extra bitch face annoyed, and asked him to stop. But you couldn’t hide your smile everytime Dean looked over at you, not exclaiming the song lyric out loud but you could hear him just the same.

Six days later it wasn’t a chupacabra, but a bunch of vamps with a weird taste for goat blood appetizer. You got the bastards but not before one of them sliced into your calf with a dirty iron stake right before you ganked it. You told the boys you were fine, but another five days later you were holed up in your and Dean’s motel room in Utah with a wrapped leg and some heavy duty meds. The boys took care of a restless spirit while you healed and then the three of you took care of a case of a zombie grandmother in South Dakota. By the time you got back to Lebanon you’d been gone for six weeks. You’d never been so glad to be home. And now, the Bunker felt like an all new place as your husband parked the car in the garage and sighed happily.

“Home sweet home, right sweetheart?”

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him. You’d had your own motel room along the way. Sam would never share again after he caught you two getting it on in the shower late one night. But still, you felt like you hadn’t had time alone just the two of you since Vegas.

Sam was out of the car immediately, stomping down the hall with his bags and leaving the rest to you and Dean.

“No loud sex!” Sam shouted over his shoulder. “I’m still scarred from the Provo incident!”

“Cranky,” you laughed and smiled at Dean. “We gotta get him a girl.”

“Wasn’t her name Mandy? Or Molly?” Dean grinned.

“Honestly, I think her name was Lindsey.”

Dean burst out laughing, pulling the rest of the bags from the trunk. Once all of your luggage was inside and the drinks and food from the cooler were put away, you headed down the hall to your room.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Dean asked.

You turned, smiling at him leaning against the door frame to his bedroom. He had shed his overshirt and jacket, leaving him in one of his soft gray t-shirts, dirty jeans, and white socked feet. His hair was a little messy and his eyes were dark rimmed with exhaustion after driving eight hours. But even after all the kisses the last few weeks, all the amazing sex, the talking for hours, even after marrying the guy- you still had the biggest crush on him. It was cheesy as hell but everyday was like falling in love with him again. “I was gonna go change clothes. Maybe take a shower.”

“Hmmmm,” he pushed away from the door and walked down the hall to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Well maybe your clothes should be in my room now. And maybe I should take a shower with you.”

“Hmmmm,” you giggled. “Good idea, Mr. Winchester.”

“Lead the way, Mrs. Winchester.”

You took his hand and tugged him behind you. “Hearing that will _never_ get old.”

Dean started the water while you sorted through your cosmetics bag, looking for a hair clip. When you couldn’t find one you dumped the bag out on the counter. You plucked a purple clip out of the bottles and canisters, and looked up in the mirror as you pushed your hair out of your eyes. As you went to scoop your stuff back into the bag, a few items caught your eye.

“What’s up?” Dean leaned against the counter as you flung makeup and shampoo bottles across it, some skittering across the tile and onto the floor. He held out a hand to catch a bottle of conditioner before it smacked him in the chest.

“Nothing, I just…” you mumbled to yourself as you stared down into your bag.

“What’s going on?” Dean worried, taking a step closer as he looked back and forth from the pile of beauty products to your face, watching as you began to panic.

You looked up and met his bright green eyes. You’d been on the road so much longer than you expected and then there was all the drunkeness and your injury. You wiped your cheeks, not realizing you were crying until your fingers came away wet. What the fuck had you done. He was never going to be okay with this. This fantasy, this time together- this beautiful, wonderful, everything you had ever wanted- it was all going to be over.

“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“I just didn’t...I don’t know…” you dropped your head in to your hands as Dean’s arm wrapped around you. “What the hell,” you breathed, staring down at your empty case of birth control pills, the empty antibiotics bottle, and a judgmental purple tampon wrapper belatedly waiting to be used. The weeks in Vegas, Arizona, Utah, and South Dakota seemed to swarm around you. Panic rose up as you realized the idiotic mistake you’d made. You quickly did the math, counting the weeks since your last period.

You looked up at Dean with wide eyes.

“Oh fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction. Always practice safe sex. 
> 
> Part 4 coming soon.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops! You and Dean face your most recent mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit smut, dirty talk, masturbation, Fluff, pregnancy including non-explicit description of birth and vomiting, cursing.
> 
> Written for Genre Bingo, Square Filled: Flannel and Fluff Bingo, Square Filled: Sickfic
> 
>  
> 
> FROM DEAN'S POV

“We gotta go to the store. Now.”

One minute Y/N is flinging makeup and shampoo and stuff all over, the next she’s halfway across the bathroom yanking the door open so hard it slams against the wall. Jeez, aggressive much.

“Hey, wait a second.” I grab onto the edge of her sweatshirt and tug her back to me. She comes back without a fight, her lower lip still trembling as she slowly looks up at me. “What’s going on?”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before pushing up on her tiptoes. Her lips meet mine, pressed hard like she's trying to make a memory of it. The kiss feels like something final, like a goodbye, and I hate it.

“No.” I maybe grab her shoulders a little too tight. She’s still on the edge of hyperventilating and I take a deep breath in and then out, nodding at her to do the same. What the fuck is going on. “Just...tell me. One word at a time.”

“I...okay...I....Dean, I’m late! I didn’t realize until now, but I was supposed to get my period and I didn’t and with us getting married and Vegas and being gone for all the extra hunts, and I think the antibiotics, they could fuck up my pills and then I just didn’t realize! And now I’ve fucked everything up and you’re gonna…” She’s still talking but I let my grip on her loosen and she starts pacing around the bathroom, and I just stare at her. Late. She’s late. Late as in... _late_? Late like...like _baby_ late?

“Wait.” I shake my head. Last time I was this confused I woke up with a ring on my finger. “You’re...pregnant?”

She looks up and meets my eyes, and staring back at me is the badass hunter I’ve known for years. Nothing is taking her down, weakening her, breaking her without a fight. I’ve seen that look before when we’ve been against the end of the world and she always comes out on top. She’s afraid but she’s ready to fight.

She already knows. Son of a bitch.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Fuck! We gotta go to the store.”

Forty-five minutes later we’re back in the bathroom, both staring at the counter and the blue plastic stick that she just peed on. This is all so fucking weird. It’s the longest two minutes of my life, longer than torture, longer than punches upside the skull from dickhead angels and even slower than time standing still in fucking Purgatory. Okay maybe not, but it sure feels like it. When the high pitched alarm on her phone goes off, I jump, nearly falling backwards on my ass. She looks at me with wide eyes and I kind of want to cry.

“You look.”

“Me?!” I admittedly screech like a girl. She’s giving me a look similar to the ridiculous puppy eyes Sam gives witnesses and hot women. Damnit.

“I’m afraid,” Y/N whispers.

“Okay.” Only because I love her. I grab the test and the box off the counter and fumble the shiny cardboard twice before getting it held instructions side up. I can do this. No harder than reading an incantation or calculating RPMs. Just gotta match the symbols. Okay. We can do this.

Oh fuck.

“It’s positive, isn’t it?”

My face must give it away because a sob rips out of her throat and she’s under my arm and crying on my shoulder within seconds. It takes me a minute just standing there with the plastic pee stick in one hand and the life changing box in the other to realize what this means, what the test is saying. What...oh.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” I breathe out real slow as I set the test stuff down, “holy shit.” This grin creeps across my face as it all hits me. A baby. One that’s half me, half her. Wow. Just...wow.

“You’re not mad?” she asks. I don’t really even know what to say to that. Mad is the opposite of everything I’m feeling. Mad is...no, I’m not mad. She’s my best friend and my wife and this is awesome! I try to reply but words aren’t working so fuck it, I’m happy so I kiss her. Like kiss her good and hard and pressed up against the tile of the bathroom wall and make her understand how un-mad I am. I’m thrilled. Scared shitless. But wow. A baby.

“Not mad,” I pant. She laughs, the first one I’ve heard in the longest hour and a half of our lives. We gotta talk about the blue plastic elephant in the room but I just need a minute. I kiss her again and we collapse on the wooden bench against the wall. A million thoughts are crashing around my brain but I just...wow.

“Whatcha wanna do?” I know it’s her call, its her body. But this could be so awesome. I don’t believe in much anymore but god I want her to keep it.

“I...Dean,” her forehead leans against mine and she takes a deep breath. “I’ve never wanted a baby. Ever. It’ll fuck everything up. But this…” she tilts her head back so she can meet my eyes. Her voice cracks and I kinda want to cry. Again. “It’s you. I could never…”

“Hey, listen to me for a sec.” My voice is a little deeper now, like when we’re hunting and I gotta make sure she and Sam are listening. I want to make sure she’s really hearing me. “This isn’t some drunk accidental fuck up to me. This...this is _us_. Yeah, its fuckin’ crazy and I might seriously be freakin’ out right now,” I smile when she laughs. “But I’m in love with you. You’re my wife. I’ll support you no matter what you want to do.” I shake my head a little. Can’t hide my grin as I think about a kid with her smile and my eyes. It’s gonna be a real good looking kid. “This could be really awesome.”

The corners of her lips tilt up in a slow wide grin. “Dean, this isn’t like us getting hitched in Vegas or getting new pistols or tattoos. This is a baby. Like a real life human. That you and I have to attempt to raise.” She laughs and I can see she’s already decided. “A baby...god, this is overwhelming.”

“Hey,” I grin, tilting her chin up with my fingers, “it’s our baby. So it’s gonna be badass.”

This time I get her happy laugh, and she’s kissing me again and I wonder if its bad for the baby if we have a lot of sex because we are still newlyweds and I fully intend on fucking her for the next however months.

“We’re probably gonna need to figure some stuff out,” she sighs. “My stuff isn’t even in your room yet. I gotta find a doctor. We need to tell Sam.”

“Hey,” I kiss her again. “We got time.”

Looking back, that doesn’t seem true. Time flies by. Surprisingly she doesn’t fight me at first when I say she’s done hunting. I’m ready for the fight. Steeled for crying and screaming and bodily injury.

“You’re carrying our kid. I can’t be worried a monster is going to kill you both.” I try to avoid any emotion in it so she knows this isn’t negotiable. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her hunt while she’s pregnant.

Sam’s there in solidarity, sitting across the table from her in the library. He was totally stoked about having a niece or nephew, immediately launching in how to baby proof the bunker and put some kind of protective spell on the baby and on and on. Anyways, I’m ready to fight about the no hunting thing but she sucks in a breath and then nods. “I kinda figured.”

“Really?” Thank god.

“Yeah, it’s not fair for you guys to have to make sure I’m safe plus focus on the fight. And I don’t want to put the baby in danger. Or you.”

Sam nods, smiling as he reaches over and squeezes her hand. “Glad you get it.”

She nods at him and then looks up at me. “But I can’t be worried about you too. I know you have to hunt. I’m not going to ask you to give that up, even for us.” She rests her hand on her stomach even though there isn’t a baby bump showing yet. Still fucking awesome to see her do that. This is all so freaking weird but I just love it. Her. Both of them. “But I need you to stay close and be careful. Don’t take on anything...high profile.”

I nod. “That’s doable.”

“Cool,” she sighs. “Do we have root beer? I want root beer floats.”

It isn’t the last time we have the conversation, but it’s the most peaceful. In fact it’s probably the easiest conversation we have before she starts getting sick.

Early in the morning I turn over and reach for her, finding her side of the bed empty. I get up, pull on my robe and go looking for her.

“Sweetheart,” I call out into the kitchen. Lights off, coffee cold. Nothing. I loop through the library, finding it empty as well. It’s early, probably around 6AM-ish which meant Sam’s out running, the freak.

“Y/N?” As soon as the echo dies in the hallway I hear a sound from down the hall, like a crying choking blech sound. I run down the hallway and find her curled up around the toilet. She’s been puking, her hair sweaty and stuck to her temples, her skin clammy and she just looks fucking awful.

“Oh shit.” I grab a washcloth and dunk it under cold water from the faucet. I reach out to wipe her face. It’s one of the few things I remember my mom doing for me when I was sick. She holds her hand up to stop me, her eyes bloodshot and her voice shaky.

“Get out,” she groans, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“It’s okay, honey.” I take a little step closer. “I think morning sickness is normal. I read about it online. It can happen for the first few months.” I bite my tongue before continuing to say that she could be puking the whole time. Doesn’t seem very helpful. Plus she’s already glaring at me and I really don’t want to hear that this is all my fault.

Her eyes widen and then she gags, turning back to the toilet and puking again. Tears run down her face as she wheezes, leaning her forehead on her forearm when she’s done. This is gross, but I’ve seen worse.

“This sucks so bad,” she cries.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask, reaching around her to flush the toilet and then wipe her forehead. She sighs and closes her eyes as the wet cloth swipes her cheeks. I’d never seen her so miserable. And last year she was thrown through a glass door earning a broken collarbone and sixty stitches on her back.

“I don’t want you to see me all gross,” she sobs. “I’m gonna get fat and everything makes me nauseous and now I’m all pukey and you’re never going to want me anymore!”

“Shhhh,” I crouch down next to her and rub her back, not knowing what else to do. Of course I want her. I will for the rest of my life. Maybe not right after puking but she’s still mine. “I’ll always want you.”

“Really?” she asks softly. “You aren’t going to leave us?”

“Sweetheart, of course not. Why would you think that?”

Her forehead rests on my shoulder and she sobs even harder. “I don’t.”

“I’ll never leave you and Peanut, never.” She has to know the two of them are my world now.

“Peanut?” she sniffles, her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, I…” I blush from my neck to my ears because its kinda dumb. “I was reading about the first few months of you, you know, being pregnant, and I got this app, like it tells stuff about the baby growing and how you should be feeling each week. And it said the baby is the size of a peanut right now and well, I just keep thinking of him or her like that.”

Her eyes fill and she nods, the tears spilling over. “Oh Dean. You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

I shrug, but our happy moment is quickly ruined as Peanut enforces another bout of puking.

Every morning for two months starts like that. Sometimes she’s furious and curses me to get out or she’ll throw up on me. Other mornings she sobs in my arms until she passes out from exhaustion. Then I carry her to our room, a trash can by the side of the bed just in case. Thankfully it’s just mornings, because by noon she’s chipper and ready to make lunch or pick out stuff for the baby’s room. Sam’s got her on a walking schedule too. I’m always busy during those outings. I mean, the Impala has to be road ready at all times.

Once the puking started to wain off, new hormones showed up outta nowhere. That the app did not prepare me for. One day I came into our room after giving Baby an oil change (that car will continue to be one of the three loves of my life) and I found her on the floor crying. Her little bump had started to pop out so my Metallica t-shirt is tight on her. She smiles and looks up at me, tears running down her face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I immediately get down there and press my hand against the bump as if I can check Peanut’s vitals. “You alright?”

“We’re fine,” she smiles through fresh tears. I notice she’s got the pictures from Vegas in her hands. Her thumbs trace over our faces in the photo booth- the sweet ones and the hot sex ones.

“Is that making you sad?” I’m confused. That’s one of the best moments of my life.

“No, it was wonderful. I just...everything is different now.” She shrugs. “This all happened so fast and not like I ever thought. I don’t want to…” Fresh tears start falling down her cheeks and I’m starting to freak out.

“You don’t want to what?”

“Hold you back,” she whispers. “That time in the photo booth- it could’ve just been sex. We could still be the way we were. Just friends. But then everything happened.” Her hand returns to cover her belly, resting over mine, and I just...it’s like I wish she could be in my head and see how I really feel so she finally gets it.

“Look at me.” I tip her face towards me and keep her there. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. Probably longer than I realized.” She looks surprised at that. “The photo booth, the wedding, and now Peanut- it all just jump started a life I would’ve wanted anyways.”

She smiles, the pictures falling between her knees as she reaches for me. It’s a soft kiss, one of those real good ones, and I know she gets it now.

“I always daydreamed you’d be this sweet.”

“Well don’t tell anybody,” I laugh. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

Thankfully the crying stops and I help her to her feet. I pick up the photos and tuck them into the corner of the mirror on the wall so we can see them everyday.

“I’m hungry,” she announces, “let’s make soup.” And just like that, the day goes on as normal.

Everyday I feel like I’m on one of those Tilt-a-Whirl rides that Sam and I used to go on when we were kids. We would scrounge up some cash for the local fair and go on the ride over and over until one of us had to stop. I find myself repeating what I’d said in Vegas- in sickness and in health.

But some days are much, much harder than others.

“I’m so fuckin’ fat!” she growls into the mirror. I pull her back against my chest, resting my hands on her stomach. She’s twenty-five weeks pregnant and the baby is the size of an acorn squash. I don’t know who designs these apps that they think acorn squash is a good measurement but whatever. I didn’t even know what an acorn squash is until Sam offers to make something called squash spaghetti and then I’m the one about ready to throw up. Sam has been forcing his rabbit food on Y/N this whole time. Anyways, the baby is getting much bigger. I unfortunately make the mistake of saying that out loud.

“So I’m much bigger then?!” She flips around, pulling away. Her arms cross over her bra and for a second my brain goes all _uhhhhh boobs boobs boobs boobs_ but then I can feel her glaring at me.

“No, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re perfect.” I take her hand. She huffs and yanks it away. She pulls the band of her leggings up over her belly and then grabs one of my flannel shirts. Lately that’s what she’s taken to wearing. Everyday I go to get dressed and more and more of my shirts are missing. I don’t even get to wear my favorite blue and green one anymore, not that I’m gonna bring that up again.

“Leave me alone, Winchester,” she hisses, stomping out of the room.

“What the fuck,” I mutter, crossing my arms and watching her go.

“What?!” she growls back at me, glaring from her spot in the hall.

“Nothing,” I reply as weakly as I can. Sometimes she calms down when I’m real quiet and soft. “I love you.”

She’s gone with a huff. I run a hand down my face, biting my lip to keep from yelling after her. I hold my fists down at my sides and scrunch my eyes closed, trying to shut down my temper. _Don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick._ I know it’s the hormones but sometimes -and I’d never say this out loud because I actually want to keep my balls- but I think she’s using it as an excuse to get mad at me. Which sucks. I wish I could be sick and fat and miserable for her. But I can’t.

And then all of a sudden she wants to bang.

All. The. Time.

Can’t get enough of me, climbing me like I’m some kind of tree. There’s Impala sex until it’s too awkward for us to fit in the backseat. Library sex permanently scarring Sam who instills new rules after walking in on us. Kitchen sex which is almost ruined by another set of Sam’s rules. Dean Cave, gym, even the infirmary. Hot, hot, so hot sex. She jumps me so many times that I start to worry I’m gonna run out of jizz. She always surprises me though.

All I wanted after driving nine hours home from a hunt was a drink and to just hold her. I never realized before how much you could miss a person. Yeah, I’m so whipped, I know. I was not expecting to walk into our bedroom and find her spread out on our bed naked except for my favorite plaid around her shoulders, two fingers inside her pussy and her thumb circling her clit as she shuddered from what I assumed was a second or third orgasm based on the fucked out look on her face.

“What the…” I whisper. I whip off my shirts and kick off my shoes, stumbling across the room as I try to get to her. Fuck, it’s like walking in to my own personal porn and it’s _awesome_.

“Hi,” she smiles, both hands free now as she reaches for me.

“Hi,” I kick off my boxers and topple onto the bed, pulling her under me. “You been playing with yourself while I was gone?” I grab her hand and suck her fingers into my mouth, groaning at the taste of her. So sweet.

She shrugs, all hot and coy and sexy and fuck I’m no teenager but I just got rock hard in like twenty seconds. “I missed you. And I really want you deep inside me and I kept imagining how it would feel. Made me come twice.”

“Yeah?” I’m trying to breathe normal but my hot pregnant wife talking dirty may end me. Fuck, her tits are so much bigger now too. Pregnancy is awesome. At least the sex part.

“Yeah. Knew you’d get home soon and I wanted you to find me all ready for your dick.”

“Christ, sweetheart. If I’da known that, I would’ve left Sam with the stupid ghosts and came home earlier.” I’ve always been more of an ass man, and I love her ass, but lately her tits are all I want. Feel so good in my hands, mouth, all pressed up against me.

“Mmmm. Fuck me, Dean,” she kisses me hard. “Please.”

No need to ask me twice. She’s so hot and wet as I slide inside, she got all ready. My forehead falls down on her shoulder and I gotta breath for a second before my first thrust. Like holy shit, has sex ever felt this good.

“Harder, Dean!” she moans, her nails digging into my ass. Fuck yeah, whatever you want. I fuck her harder, but also I’m careful so I don’t hurt either her or the baby. It’s awkward to fuck her with the bump between us, so I tilt my hips just enough and oh god, so good. Her whole body’s just perfect.

She groans and pushes at my shoulder, silently telling me to lay down so she could get on top. The feeling of her sinking down on me and the sight of her glowing and gorgeous almost sends me over the edge. I bite down on my lip and groan, one hand grabbing her hip to keep her steady and the fingers of my other finding her clit and circling it hard. I know she’s sensitive but she’s close. She grinds against me a few times and then screams as she comes, shuddering and moaning and I couldn’t fucking stop myself. I thrust up inside her hard and then I’m filling her up, white noise and gray edges as my brain shut down for a minute. Well that was quick but damn, so so good.

“So good,” she sighs, smiling as she moves away. I hold onto her forearms, helping her balance and then lay down next to me. Another thing we found out the hard way when she almost toppled off the bed mid orgasm. Total buzzkill.

“You’re amazing,” she hums as she curls up against me.

I smile and kiss her forehead, closing my eyes. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

That’s the awesome part of pregnancy. And then, there was more of the very bad.

“We’ve already talked about this! You’re not hunting like that,” I shake my head, passing a rifle across the table to Sam. “That’s final, Y/N.”

“Like what?” she demands, hands on her hips and thirty-seven weeks of big baby belly pointed at me like a weapon as she stomps her foot. “Like just some chick that’s carrying your kid? Just some bitch you’re going to leave here in the bunker alone forever to breed your children?! Cuz you’re the hero, right Winchester? You can do whatever you want! Well fuck you!”

“Jesus Christ,” I bite back, knowing it’s wrong to reply at all. Don’t fight with her, she’s just being crazy because of the hormones. Don’t make it worse. Don’t say anything. But I know when I open my mouth it’s a mistake. Nine months of patience is a lot, okay?! Sometimes it’s hard to deal with super bitch all the time. “You need to go take a break or something, go chill the fuck out.”

I see Sam shake his head as he lifts his bag and walks out of the room to head to the garage. Lucky bastard. He knows what’s coming.

“A BREAK?! From YOU I assume? HOW DARE YOU!” Y/N is seething mad, nostrils flaring and foot stomping like an angry rhino. Oh god, do not say that out loud. Don’t even think it. She’ll probably read my mind and murder me. I glance down at the table and count the knife and rifle on the table, wondering which she’ll use first. “You want me gone now?! I’ll just go pack up my stuff, me and the baby all on our own.”

“No, of course not,” I shake my head. I hold my empty palms out and step towards her slowly, like I’m gonna trigger the wild tiger that is probably gonna maul me anyways. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to be upset. It’s not good for you or Peanut, okay? I just...I don’t know how to help you but I do need to keep you both safe.”

The fury fades into sorrow within seconds, and she’s sobbing into my neck as her arms tighten around my waist like a vice. Crisis averted. Peanut is moving around a little so I press my hand against her belly while I do my best to soothe Y/N, rubbing her back and trying to come up with fun stuff we can do when I get back home. I know she needs to make a scene about hunting now that she’s this far along, that she needs to prove that she’s still got the fight in her that a good hunter needs. She’s weak and scared right now. I get it.

“It’s okay, honey. I promise,” I murmur into her sweet smelling hair. She sniffles and nods, looking up at me.

“Just don’t get hurt. You or Sam. Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t go.”

I swipe away the parallel streaks of tears that roll down her cheeks. “We talked about this, remember? This is what we do.”

“But we need you here,” she pouts. So fucking adorable with her swollen cheeks and chubby (never _ever_ say that aloud) hands rubbing her bump. We both know it’s only a few weeks away now.

“And I will be here. This will be my last hunt for awhile, okay? I’ll go on out with Sam and take care of this and that’ll be my last one. We can call in some backup for Sam if he needs to take on another case.”

“Really?” she grins. “Will you help me get the baby’s room done?” She’s _nesting_ as she calls it, which apparently means wearing my plaids and sweats around and cooking more food than the three of us can eat and painting flowers on the nursery wall and picking out baby furniture that I’m going to have to put together. The baby clothes she keeps buying are pretty cute though, even if it’s not our money.

“Of course. Anything for you and Peanut.”

“‘k,” she grins, the fight gone now. “I’m going to make you a pie while you’re gone.”

“Awesome.” Because it is. And she is. I really do love her more than anything. Even super bitch. Sometimes.

So that hunt takes a little longer than planned. Typical, right? Five days later Sam and me come limping in the bunker.

“What the hell?” All of my weapons are out on the map table and two duffle bags are packed at the base of the stairs. What looks like a thermos of coffee and a dish of peanut butter and cheddar cheese covered strawberries is sitting next to Y/N’s favorite knife.

“Uh oh,” Sam looks over everything.

She comes waddling around the corner, this time in my brown and white plaid. She’s gotten so big she can’t button it up now so her t-shirt underneath is stretched tight over her belly. I have no idea how she got her boots zipped without help, looks like she quit about halfway up, but she’s ready for a hunt, or at least ready to defend the bunker against any monsters with a taste for weird snacks and hormonal soon to be mothers.

“Oh thank god,” her shoulders slump and she walks into my arms. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I told you we’d be back soon.” She smells so good, her hair still the same fruity smell I’ve learned to crave.

“Uhhh, Y/N? What’s all this?” Sam points to the arsenal laid out. I close my eyes and hope for his sake she doesn’t start yelling. 

“I thought maybe you’d need backup,” she answers softly. “I can’t do much, but I figured I could clean the guns and bring them to you if you needed them. I…” she looks up at me, and her eyes are so soft and full of love. “I made sandwiches. And pie too. The strawberries are for me.”

It’s the sweetest thing. Probably incredibly stupid if she had actually attempted her plan and I would love to see her hot wire a car with that belly in the way. Still, she’s amazing.

“Thank you sweetheart,” I kiss the top of her head again. I’m holding her and kinda rocking back and forth in the middle of the War Room. Sam grins and nods as he turns to leave. See you in the morning bro.

“Oh fuck,” she suddenly pulls away, her hand going to her side. Sam stops and watches with worry as I hold onto her shoulders.

“What?” I ask, starting to panic because her face is all scrunched up in pain. “You okay? Is it Peanut?”

“I’m okay,” she exhales deep. “I think it’s these fake contractions that I might get, they’re...owww, they’re called Branston something.”

“Braxton Hicks,” I nod. I read about them in the most recent app post. “You could be getting them but it could also be real contractions, sweetheart.” I glance up at Sam because I’m a little scared, okay a lot fucking scared, and he’s the only logical one now and god bless my little brother as he drops his bag and pulls out a chair from the map table.

“C’mon, Y/N. Sit down so we can talk.”

She nods and goes to sit, wincing and still rubbing her bump.

I freeze and stand there staring at her. Holy fuck. We’re having a baby. Holy fuck.

“Dean,” Sam doesn’t even look up at me as he silently warns me to calm down and not make it worse. Last thing we need is for Y/N to flip out.

“How long have you been feeling the contractions?” Sam asks her.

She looks up at me, reaching out for my hand. “A few hours. They...I don’t know if it’s supposed to be increasing but I thought they were the fake ones. The last hour has really hurt though. I guess that they might be real ones. I didn’t...I didn’t want to do anything until you were home.”

Shit. I mean, yes. I mean, holy fuck. I’m totally freaking out. “Why didn’t you call me?!” Deep breaths. Deep. Breaths. I kind of...whoa, maybe I need to sit down.

“Dean! Listen! We should probably go to the hospital,” Sam reasons. I’m so glad he’s here because she’s in pain and I’m scared shitless.

“Okay,” she breathes. I help her stand up and as she staggers to her feet she groans and then gasps, looking down at her bump. She reaches out and grasps Sam’s hand and mine as she whimpers from pain.

“Uhhh, sweetheart,” I glance at the front of her jeans that are slowly wetting in the front. “Did you...umm, did you have an accident?”

“Oh shit,” she groans. “My...I think my water broke.”

Sam’s all grins and excitement and practically squealing. “Baby time! We gotta go.” I stand there, my eyes wide and all I can think is that the app didn’t tell me what we should do if the baby is a little early. Sam punches my shoulder and nods his head at Y/N. “Dean, snap out of it! You gotta wake the fuck up, the baby’s coming.”

Oh fuck. The baby’s coming.

Y/N leans against me and I start to help her down the hall, helping her quickly change into new leggings and her (formerly my) favorite plaid while Sam gets the bags into the car. It only takes ten minutes, but Y/N is groaning as she curls up in my lap in Baby’s backseat while Sam drives pedal to the metal to the Lebanon General. I’m humming Ramble On under my breath and rubbing her back and just praying that if there’s anything that can help her get through this, it’ll come play ball now.

I don’t even have time to freak out again once we’re at the hospital. Sam pats me on the shoulder and gives us a little wave as he goes to sit and wait. They get her and Peanut hooked up to heart monitors and machines are beeping and a nurse gives me some kind of a pep talk but I just keep brushing Y/N’s hair back and dabbing her forehead with a cold cloth someone handed to me. The doctor seems cool, we’d met him before. He shakes my hand and then hers, like this is a freaking job interview, before getting a look at her, legs wide open and propped up so she’s all exposed to the whole room. There’s a part of me that wants to cover her up but she doesn’t care now. She wants this done.

“Dean, you gotta make it stop. Fuck, tell ‘im. Get it out, I can’t…” she cries out and I can see her whole body stiffen and her belly literally ripples and holy fuck. Okay. Focus. FOCUS, Dean.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” She turns her face to look at mine and I smile. Sweaty and scared and mid-labor and she’s absolutely beautiful. “You are the most amazing person I have ever known. You’re so strong and you can do this. I’m right here. You just have to breathe and push and then Peanut will be here, okay?”

There’s tears and sweat running down her face but she nods, squeezing my hand a little tighter. A nurse man shows me how to hold Y/N’s knee back, which is awkward because now I can see _everything_ and while I am equally grossed out and impressed, I just want to help her get this part over with.

She cries and screams through the contractions, but the doctor is saying a bunch of positive stuff that’s probably supposed to help us both but it’s not and so much of this is gross and there is _stuff_ I will pretend I never saw, but then the top of Peanut’s little head is there and I cannot believe we’re having a kid right now.

“Holy shit. I can see it,” I squeeze her hand, my voice cracking. I'm so freaking excited but also want to burst into tears. Not yet, gotta keep it together for her. “You’re doing it, baby. You got this. C’mon.”

“Okay, Y/N. This is it, one more big push,” the doctor says.

Her upper body nearly twists off the bed as she leans forward and puts all of her strength into it. She’s shaking and screaming and wow. I cannot believe this. She’s my fucking hero.

“Thatta girl! Peanut is almost here! Push, baby, push!” I hold her hand tight, ignoring the pain of her tight grip as she roars through the pain.

“OHHHH FUUUUUCK!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your life with Dean has gone from bottles of whiskey to bottles of breast milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the following:
> 
> Fluff Bingo: first child  
> Kink Bingo: praise kink  
> @idreamofplaidIn the Bunker Challenge  
> Dean’s bedroom

“OHHHH FUUUUUCK!!!!”

The delivery room was silent for a moment until a high pitched cry announced your baby’s arrival.

“Peanut!” Dean exclaimed, watching in awe as the doctor lifted a tiny little body up in the air.

“Oh thank god,” you gasped, your head rolling back onto the sweaty pillow behind you. You weren’t sure if you were more grateful that the labor was over or that your child had been born safely. The room seemed to swim around you as the doctor set the tiny wiggling bundle up onto your chest. A laugh sobbed from your throat and you reached out with shaky hands as the baby began to wail, little arms and legs flailing through the air.

“Congrats Mom and Dad, you’ve got yourselves a perfect baby girl,” the doctor announced.

Dean whooped with joy, practically dancing in place. He kissed your forehead as you balanced your daughter’s little body in your hands. You rocked the baby back and forth, crying with her as she faced the bright cold world for the first time. After a minute a nurse approached, holding out her hands.

“We’ll just get her cleaned up and then you can have her back.”

Dean turned and looked at you then, watery tears in his green eyes and the biggest smile you’d ever seen. “You did so good. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, sweetheart.”

You laughed at him swearing in such a precious moment, a soft kiss breaking apart when the doctor coaxed you through the last few steps of labor. You nodded silent permission for Dean to go to your daughter. Dean watched the nurses’ every move as they cleaned and wrapped up the baby. As another nurse helped you clean up, Dean walked over with your baby girl in his arms. You watched as he cooed and smiled at her, introducing himself in a soft voice and talking to her like she was ready to recite the Latin alphabet.

“You’re so beautiful. Beautiful as your mom,” he soothed. Her cries turned to little whimpers and her eyes squinted up at him. “Hi Peanut,” he breathed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Hi, I’m your dad. I love you so much.”

“Come say hi to Mama.” He grinned and held the baby out to you. As you took her into your arms your whole world felt like it shifted. How could anything so small and sweet and all yours be a mistake? She was perfect. She was you and Dean, together. The best thing to ever happen and the best you’d ever done in your broken dark life.

“Hi,” you breathed as you held your daughter close. Her tiny little face looked up at you and your heart felt like it swelled to make room for her. “Hi baby girl.”

“Love you.” Dean kissed your temple again. You stared in awe at your child, listening as Dean told her details about you and your life together. All of that pregnancy hell had been totally worth it. The hormones, the stretch marks, the puking- all worth it. Once you were cleaned up and moved to a recovery room, the baby was deemed perfectly healthy. The doctor patted you on the arm and promised to come back and check on you later. The nurses smiled and followed the doctor out, leaving your little family alone for the first time.

The room was quiet for a while, just the baby’s occasional whimpers as she learned to nurse. Dean ran his finger back and forth over her tiny hand, humming Zeppelin into your shoulder as he watched your little girl.

“Fuck,” Dean suddenly muttered under his breath, running a hand across his face. He began to pace like he did when he was trying to focus on capturing a monster during the turning moments of a hunt.

“What?” You looked up with alarm. The jerk of your shoulders had woken the baby and you winced from the strange pinch of her latching onto your breast again. You shifted, trying to lead her towards your nipple so she could feed but it was far more complicated than you expected.

“I should’ve tested the nurse!”

You didn’t even bother hiding the roll of your eyes. “Dean, a demon or a shapeshifter probably hasn’t been waiting here for us to randomly show up and have a baby.” You looked back down at your daughter, examining each unique detail from her tiny eyebrows to the delicate soft skin of her little ears. You could see both yourself and Dean in her. She really was the most beautiful baby ever.

“What if it’s a werewolf? I’m gonna keep an eye on that one man nurse, he looks sketchy,” Dean muttered. “And that would happen to us, you know it. Monster doctors wanting to take our baby. Maybe I should go get a shotgun from the trunk.”

“Dude, just stop,” you huffed. “Go get Sam so he can see her.” The baby was sound asleep again and you knew Sam had to be dying to know how you were doing. Dean walked towards the door and then paused, his hand still on the handle as he looked back at you and the baby.

“We’ll be here, Dean.” You winced as you readjusted your hips on the bed. “I’m not getting up for awhile.”

Dean nodded, looking around the room for a moment. He grabbed a highlighter off the nurse’s whiteboard and quickly drew some protective sigils on the bed frame. “I’ll be right back. Two minutes.”

You smirked and shook your head, wondering why he hadn’t drawn a circle of salt before your labor had started. A minute later Dean rushed back into the room, leaning over the bed out of breath like he’d sprinted down the hall to the waiting room and back. Another minute later Sam knocked gently on the ajar door.

“Hey,” he said softly, grinning at you and the tiny bundle in your arms. He came to your side and looked down at her, smiling even wider when he saw her face. “Awww she’s so cute and little!”

“Wanna hold your niece, Uncle Sam?” You handed her over to Dean who proudly tucked her against his chest. Tears sprung to your eyes as you watched Dean pass the sleeping baby over to his brother. Sam held his hands out carefully, one nearly bigger than the baby’s whole body. He chuckled as he rocked her gently against him.

“She’s so cute!” Sam looked up at you. “You name her yet?”

Dean settled down next to you again, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “You wanna tell him?”

You nodded, watching your daughter cradled in the arms of her uncle. “Her name is Samantha. Samantha Maren Winchester.”

Sam stopped swaying, looking up and meeting your eyes. He looked back down at the baby then to Dean and then back at you again. “You named her after me?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “We knew it’d be a Samantha or a Samuel 2.0. Luckily you’re already a giant girl, so baby Sammy here can grow her hair out and eat vegetable spaghetti like her girly uncle.”

Sam rolled his eyes, a huge smile plastered on his face. “I can’t believe you named her after me.”

“Mom too,” Dean nodded. “That’s where Maren comes from.”

Sam blinked back tears and kissed Samantha’s forehead. “Hi Sammy. I’m your Uncle Sammy.”

Dean shook his head, clearing his throat as he looked to the far corner of the room to hide his own tears. You laughed as tears streamed uncontrollably down your own cheeks.

“Don’t cry man. You’re gonna make me cry,” Dean groaned as Sam let a few tears slip down his cheeks. Baby Sammy stirred in her uncle’s arms and let out a piercing cry. “See dude, now you made the baby cry.”

You were weeping from happiness, your nipples leaking, cramps raging in your lower half. But it was still the most wonderful day of your life. When the nurse walked in she wasn’t surprised to see you dealing with your hormones, but the two grown men with happy tears on their cheeks was a bit of a surprise.

“She’s perfect,” Sam smiled as he gently handed Samantha back to you. He used the back of his hand to brush a tear off his cheek. “You guys did really good.”

“Thanks Sam,” you smiled. His eyes widened when he looked down as the baby latched on, your full breast exposed as the baby decided to eat with renewed enthusiasm.

“Uhhh, you guys want anything? Coffee?” He suddenly turned towards the door, his face flushed.

“I want a nap,” you laughed, exhaustion creeping up on you. “A nap and a cheeseburger. Babe, can you go get me a burger? And a strawberry shake. Please?”

“Uhhh, yeah. I mean,” Dean looked down at the baby and back to the door. He didn’t want to leave you for a moment longer than he had to. Sam seemed to catch on just as you did.

“You guys hang out here. I’ll go get dinner.”

Dean’s sigh of relief was audible and you laughed as more tears streamed down your face.

“Are you sad?” Dean asked once Sam had left.

“No,” you shook your head and then looked into his beautiful eyes. Hopefully the baby would inherit the beautiful olive green. “I’m so happy. And totally exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”

“Here,” Dean took baby Sammy from you and settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “We are gonna just get to know each other while you take a nap, Mama. Right? Yeah. Okay, Peanut, let me tell you a story about a girl and a boy and a fountain…”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, Dean’s voice lulling you and your daughter to sweet dreams.

The next afternoon you and Sammy were buckled in in the backseat of the Impala, Sam and Dean in the front. The drive back to the Bunker was the slowest Dean had ever driven. The twenty minute drive took forty-five long minutes, Dean creeping along slowly way below the speed limit and taking long “less dangerous” detours until the baby started to sob angrily in her carseat.

“C’mon Dean, floor it,” you groaned, trying to soothe your crying child with your palm softly patting her chest. “Sammy and I are done with the car.”

You were so relieved to be home. As soon as you reached the hallway a rush of exhaustion hit you like the tile wall to your cheek. It’d been hard to sleep deeply at the hospital, with nurses coming in and out of your room, even if an overprotective Dean stood watch when any strangers came in your room. Now all you wanted was the memory foam king bed you’d missed for two days.

“I’ll take Sammy, you go take a nap.” Dean took the car seat handle from you.

“You sure?” you slurred, still staggering towards your room like a bloated, cranky zombie. “What if she needs to eat?”

“I’ll bring her to you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead and then gave you a gentle nudge towards the bedroom. You were unconscious the second your head hit the pillow.

At the sound of her cry your body woke you, and you sat straight up with the instinct to find your child. You glanced at the clock to find you’d been sound asleep for two hours.

“Look Peanut, Mom’s awake,” Dean flipped the switch on his desk lamp setting the room into a soft warm glow. “Hey sweetheart, you feeling better?”

“A little,” you nodded. You were still groggy but you missed your baby. You held your arms out, taking a deep breath of relief now that she was with you. “Hi Sammy baby.”

Two hours later Sam would find your bedroom door wide open, you still sitting up in bed sound asleep with the sleeping newborn in your arms and Dean passed out snoring next to you on the mattress. Sam quietly closed the door with a smile on his face.

And so bunker life with a newborn began.

It was way harder than you expected. You were exhausted, sore, and restless. The baby cried at all hours. Sometimes you worried she cried just to cry; no need to eat or have a fresh diaper, just high pitched wails that made you feel helpless and insane. Dean would pace the long hallway with her all night, her cries and whimpers echoing off the tile until she exhausted herself to sleep again. When Dean would go to lay her down in the bassinet next to you, she’d wake with wailing sobs, leading Dean to pace the hall again. Within a week of her birth Sam gently excused himself and went out on a solo hunt free of baby cries and a cranky sister-in-law.

Many nights you’d cry as she nursed, feeling the loss of everything that had changed. You were used to having control over your life. Hunt, sleep, maybe get drunk and fuck, and then hunt again- that was your life. It was bloody and dark, but you had control. Motherhood was the hardest thing you’d ever done and the exhaustion alone was a suffering you’d never faced before.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked one morning as he tugged on his favorite plaid. He’d been relieved when you started to share his shirts with him. You were just grateful you could fit into some of your old clothes again.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” you panicked. Sammy was bright red, screaming and flailing an arm out of the tight swaddle you thought was comforting her. You could handle a new vampire or ghoul; this brand new baby thing was impossible. “What if she’s dying?! She’s all red and I think she hates me and she won’t eat and I don’t know what to do!”

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Dean took the baby in his arms. “She’s just too warm, see how she’s all sweaty?” You nodded, wiping your tears away. Dean pulled the long sleeve onesie and blanket off of Sammy, leaving her in a diaper and light muslin. “Maybe a bath will help.”

The baby’s sobs had already started to calm and you took a deep breath as you followed Dean to the bathroom.

“How do you know how to do this?” you asked as you set the purple plastic bathtub in the sink.

Dean shrugged, swaying in place to soothe the whimpering baby. “I kinda crash coursed a lot of stuff with Sammy number one.”

Your lower lip started to tremble as you realized just how much Dean had done raising his little brother. He already knew how to handle your baby because he’d raised one himself. “You’re kinda amazing, Dean Winchester.”

“Well duh,” he winked. You laughed, your tears falling as you shut off the lukewarm water. Dean carefully set the naked baby in the tub, his hand still on her back to ease the transition to the cool plastic. You smiled as Sammy squinted up at her dad as if she was thanking him.

“Thanks,” you kissed Dean’s cheek softly. “I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Never have to,” Dean smiled as he scooped water over the baby’s belly. “Now let’s get this baby girl cooled off and then maybe have some pie!”

He was there for you through all of the firsts- your first clumsy attempt at using a breast pump, which freaked you both out. First time Sammy blew out a diaper, which took you over a hour to clean up. Dean’s baby diaper changing process did not account for baby poop everywhere. First time you had to cut her fingernails you’d nearly worked yourself into a panic attack over fear of cutting her with the little nail clipper the hospital had given you. Dean very carefully cut each delicate paper thin nail as if it was fine knife work out in the field.

There was no doubt in your mind that Dean was the best father to Sammy that you could ever hope for. But he was of course extremely overprotective as well.

Trips to town were impossible; every person you passed could be a potential threat and you’d had to drag Dean out of the grocery store after he tried to splash holy water on a kind old woman in the vegetable aisle. In the evenings you’d be reading, the baby nursing and content, and he’d come in from the garage to stand over your shoulder and ask insistent questions about the baby’s temperature and weight gain and color of her poop day to day. He was even worse at the baby’s doctor visits. He asked the pediatrician a hundred questions even though you’d hiss at him to just sit down and shut up. The doctor just patted his arm and gave him a book about baby milestones, which Dean had read within twenty-four hours.

“You know, Peanut should be recognizing us by now,” Dean announced one morning as he shuffled through his book. You set a plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him, and chuckled at the dog eared pages and grease fingerprints on the cover.

“She does,” you nodded, looking down at Sammy who was sound asleep in the baby carrier attached to your front. “She follows my voice too.”

“I want her to know me though,” Dean pouted. You bit your lip to keep from laughing at his petulant whining. “I mean, I know she didn’t come outta me, but I want her to know I’m her dad.”

“She does, Dean.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re like a damn helicopter. Trust me, she knows who you are.”

“Be nice if she showed it,” he muttered into his book.

“You’re starting to go crazy all locked up in here.” You gestured to the kitchen walls around you. “Maybe you should go on a hunt. Or do some recon. Do something. Sammy and I are okay.”

“You want me to leave?” His brow furrowed and your heart broke at the sadness in his eyes.

“Noooo,” you replied, bouncing in place as you ate a piece of bacon. It was best to stay moving while the baby was asleep in the carrier. As soon as you sat down she would wake and you really didn’t want that to happen. You craved getting her on a regular nap schedule. “I just want you to be happy. And you’re not an indoor pet, Dean; you needed to be free to thrive.”

“Where’d you come up with that?” he asked warily. “I can be indoors.”

“New daddy milestones book,” you laughed.

Dean carried his plate over to the kitchen island and stood next to you as he took a bite of scrambled eggs. The kitchen was quiet for a few minutes while you ate. Dean looked down at you and you flushed as he gave you that dangerous smirk that got you knocked up in the first place. “You know, I love you more now than I ever did.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m glad you still recognize me.”

Dean chuckled and leaned in to give you a greasy kiss, the romantic moment ruined by the sharp cry of your waking daughter.

“Damn,” you swayed back and forth. “You’re making breakfast tomorrow!”

A few times you tried to broach the subject of Dean going back out to hunt, but he shook his head. He wasn’t leaving his girls just yet. So instead he bought a bunch of broken stereos, radios, engines, and other electronics from the recycling plant in Lawrence, and began to rebuild them. He’d then pawn them, bringing home some cash you could use for basic necessities that stolen credit cards couldn’t cover. Life had a new normal. Instead of shifter guts and machetes, you were now faced with constant drool and bottle training.

You had to admit you missed hunting too. But with time, and as the baby got older, you knew your new purpose. Hunting was over for you but that was okay.

Samantha was growing way above the percentile, and you loved seeing how she was changing everyday. She didn’t have much hair, and her eyes were still dark like all infants. You hoped they’d turn green in the next few months. The doctor said based on her measurements she may be tall someday, and you had to thank the Winchester genes for that.

Late one night the baby was fast asleep in her bassinet. You took a deep breath and pulled your baggy sweatshirt over your head, replacing it with a peach lacy negligee. You tugged it down to cover the ugly stretch marks that webbed across your stomach and sides. You turned in the mirror, not necessarily happy with the reflection but it would do. You settled on the bed with your knees tucked under you and took a deep breath. You were nervous, which you knew was silly.

Dean came in, his hair damp from the shower. He dropped his towel and pulled up a pair of boxers and you couldn’t help the low hum in your throat at the sight of his tight ass.

“Guess what today is?” You asked as he climbed into bed next to you. You took the damn baby milestones book from his hands and set it on the nightstand.

“Uhhhh Taco Tuesday?”

“No. I mean, yeah, guess so. But that’s not what I mean.” You ran your fingers down his bare chest, your palm resting on his stomach. “Sammy was born six weeks ago today.”

“Oh,” Dean grinned, looking over at the bassinet that was rocking in the corner of the room. “That’s nice. It’s her six-week birthday.”

“Dean,” you huffed. You were gonna have to spell it out for him. “I mean, it’s been six weeks. We can have sex again.”

“Oh!” The grin on Dean’s face doubled. “Are you sure? I mean, I know the books said it’s okay but are you sure? Maybe we should wait. And what about Sammy? She’s in here.” He glanced over at the bassinet nervously. “I mean, is that okay? Maybe we should wait until Sam can watch her. Or maybe we should talk about moving her into her own room first. I don’t want to scar her forever cuz her parents couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

“Dean. She’s fine. And I’m sure,” you nodded, slowly moving to straddle his thighs and ease your ass onto his lap. His hands wrapped around your hips and you groaned as his thumbs brushed underneath the silky camisole. His touch sent a shiver across your skin. “Missed you so much.”

“Oh god, baby, me too.” You gasped from the force of his kiss. He hadn’t kissed you so deeply in months and it almost hurt how bad you wanted him. All you could do was pray that the baby would stay asleep long enough.

“This is pretty,” Dean’s voice was already rough was arousal as he kissed down your neck. “You get this for me?” You nodded as his fingers skimmed under the hem of the peach satin and he lifted it over your head. Your nipples were tender to his touch and you were grateful that he was careful, almost reverent. Each kiss to your skin a little thank you, a please, a fuck I’ve missed this too.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed as he took in all of your soft skin. You ruffled your fingers through his damp hair as he kissed each stretch mark and new curve, his eyes darkening as he discovered the changes your body had gone through. “I love you so much. Love kissing you, holding you, making love to you.”

“Love you,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him down onto the bed. Dean leaned over you, his tongue sliding along yours leisurely. Each kiss stoked the burn that was swelling inside you, and you needed him more than you ever had.

“Condom,” you muttered as you pushed your panties down and then tugged his boxers off.

“Right,” he nodded. Last thing you needed was two babies born within a year of each other. Dean shoved stuff around in his cluttered nightstand drawer before cackling with success when he found a gold and black wrapper. He ripped the package open and then stared at the sticky circle for a moment, raising a brow at you.

You shook your head. “Hell no. There’s no way we’re having sex without one.”

“Yeah, okay,” he smiled. You knew he wanted to have more kids but that was a conversation for another day when you could handle the one kid you already had.

“C’mon, fuck me,” you said, grabbing his hip. “Need you inside me.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck. “I...we have to be careful.”

“I’m more than ready, Dean,” you nodded. “Please.”

“I like it when you’re desperate,” he chuckled against your lips, kissing you silent. You groaned as he slid inside you as slowly and gently as he could. He felt huge inside you and your eyes rolled back in your head from the feeling of being so full.

“Dean. Oh god,” you moaned.

“Holy...fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured into your neck. “You’re so warm. I’ve missed this, damn, so much.”

“Me too,” you clenched around him, finding yourself sensitive and tender. “Please, Dean. Please.”

He nodded and then kissed you, his hips sliding back as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your mouths broke apart in gasps of need.

“Baby,” Dean moaned. “Christ, you’ve never felt so good. So soft, so damn perfect.”

You whimpered, your nails raking up and down his back as you held onto him, needing more as the pleasure built and you and Dean found each other again. You bit down on your lip to stifle a shout as his cock grazed your sensitive G-Spot. “Dean. Yes! Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“Yeah, there it is. God I love you so much,” Dean gasped, his hips moving faster as you moved against him. “You’re the, oh fuck baby, best thing to ever happen to me.”

You nodded in response, unable to find the words as you looked into his eyes. You loved him more than you could explain. You moved your hand from Dean’s back to your side, sliding between you to find your clit. Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand, moving it back to his neck. He leaned up on his heels, lifting you with him, his thrusts deeper inside you as you straddled his waist. Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers found your clit, expertly circling and twisting like he knew you loved. You moaned as you rode him, kisses passing between your open mouths.

“That’s it, gonna come for me?” Dean gasped, his cheeks red and lower lip swollen as you sucked it into your mouth. “Fuck, I can feel you so...so good.”

You nodded, holding onto him tighter as your first orgasm in months barreled down on you. The throbbing inside you doubled, tripled, every second sending you onto the edge. “I’m...Imma...Dean!”

“Yeah, baby, I got you. You’re so beautiful like this, fuck.” He groaned as he felt you seize in his arms. “Come for me.”

You would’ve fallen over from the force of your orgasm had he not been holding you up. His whispered sweet words faded as your whole body shook and you came from his deep thrusting and insistent fingers. You moaned loudly, and your head fell back, Dean using the opportunity to kiss your throat as he fucked you once, twice more and then came with a stuttered moan. His forehead dropped to your shoulder and you ran your fingers through his hair as he shuddered against you.

“I love you,” he gasped as he came down. You wrapped your arms around him tight, still joined together as you swayed for a minute.

“I love you too,” you smiled. “So damn much.”

Dean kissed you softly, a reminder of everything he’d promised to you months before in Vegas. “Fuck I missed that but god damn, that was totally worth the wait.”

You giggled as he slowly laid you down onto your back. He hopped off the bed and discarded the condom. You hummed in appreciation as you watched that fine ass again, smiling when he peeked into the bassinet. He tugged his boxers up and smiled over at you.

“She okay?” you asked. You tugged your cotton nursing nightgown over your head, not bothering with the sexy negligee now that it had served its purpose. “Thank god we didn’t wake her up.”

“She’s perfect,” he grinned. He slid under the comforter next to you, pulling you against him. “Thank you.”

“We’ve still got it,” you giggled, your cheek resting on his chest. His rapid heartbeat steadied under your ear and you scooted even closer as his voice rumbled again.

“Well yeah,” Dean chuckled. “I meant...thanks for Sammy. And being you. And everything, you know, that’s happened.”

“Awww,” you kissed his chest. “Babe, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“No crying,” he leaned down and kissed you before reaching over to turn the lamp off. The room dipped into darkness. “Only happy.”

Dean eventually went back to hunting. You hated him being gone, and Sammy didn’t sleep well either. But he needed it- hunting was part of who he was. You had rules though- stay close to home. Always have backup. And nothing high profile. You knew that rules didn’t mean shit when they were in the real world facing a monster. But you needed to ask for your sanity. You couldn’t lose him but you also couldn’t hold him back.

Sammy passed her third month milestones with flying colors. Dean couldn’t wait to check her progress against his book, which was now well loved enough that it’d lost the front cover. You wanted to do something special that late January night when Dean and Sam were coming home after a rough rugaru hunt.

“What’s all this?” Dean asked as he climbed down the Bunker’s staircase. Blue and white streamers were swung around the War Room, and the map table held a case of his favorite beer, three pizzas, and a lemon meringue pie decorated with a handful of birthday candles you’d gotten at the dollar store.

“Happy Birthday!” you sang out. You lifted Sammy’s chubby little arm and waved it as he walked closer. She cooed and wiggled in your arms, reaching out for her dad as he got closer.

“You remembered,” Dean grinned. He dropped his bag and took the baby from you. You kissed his cheek and nodded.

“Of course. You only turn forty-one once.”

“Haha,” Sam said around a mouth of pepperoni. His jacket was still on and his hair still sweaty, but the open pizza box in front of him seemed to make him happy. “You’re old again.”

“Shuddup,” Dean rolled his eyes, still smiling at his baby girl that he was bouncing around the room. “You’re gonna be forty soon enough, dude.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “But you’ll still always be old.”

“Alright boys, quit squabbling or I’m gonna eat this whole dessert by myself. And I’m feeding this kid, so I get to burn it off,” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean tucked the baby against his side as he sat down in front of pie. “Thanks sweetheart.”

You grinned. “We’ve come a long way from photo booths and Bellagio restrooms.”

Dean laughed and tugged you closer to him for a kiss.

“Ugh, I don’t even want to know,” Sam groaned, shoving a second piece of pizza in his mouth.

“Happy birthday Dean.” You smoothed the soft downy hair on the baby’s head. “Right Sammy? Happy birthday Dada!”

You popped the cap off two beers and handed them to Dean and Sam, clinking their glass against the tin of your Diet Coke can. “Cheers.”

As Dean winked at you and swallowed a sip of beer, Samantha looked up at him and laughed for the very first time. The joyful echo of the happiest sound you’d ever heard filled the halls and rooms of the dark Bunker. You clapped your hands and laughed in response as she set her tiny hands on her dad’s face.

“Best birthday ever,” Dean grinned as he hugged your daughter closer to him. Your family was safe and together again.

* * *

  **ONE YEAR LATER**

“To have and to hold,”

“To have and to hold,”

“From this day forward,”

“From this day forward,”

“As long as we both shall live,”

“As long as we both shall live,” you grinned, repeating the vows after Sonny. Dean squeezed your hands, having said the same vows to you just a minute before.

“As you’ve both renewed your vows here today and recommitted to your marriage, on behalf of the power vested to me by the great state of Nevada and the greatest music ever, rock ‘n soul! I now proclaim you are married again! Dean, you may kiss your wife!”

The electric guitar version of the wedding march began again as Dean pulled you into his arms. You wound your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, holding on tight to your best friend, husband, and partner.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips when you parted.

“I love you too,” you kissed him gently again. The two of you turned to your audience. Sam was standing in front of the first row of chairs, Bobby clapping beside him. In Sam’s arms was your fifteen month old daughter in a pale pink dress, one little hand holding on tight to her “Unca Zam’s” collar and she smacked the other little hand against his big one in a lopsided enthusiastic clap. As you and Dean walked towards them she held her arms out to Dean.

“Dada!” she demanded. “Up!”

He grinned and scooped her into his arms, kissing her cheek with a loud smack which made her giggle. “Was that fun, Peanut? Mama and Dada gettin’ married?”

“Yeah!” She giggled again, looping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his. You took Dean’s arm as he offered it to you, walking back up the aisle as a family. Cher tossed rose petals at you as you reached the end of the aisle. You hugged her, glad to see your eccentric friends again.

“Now what you two?” Bobby asked once you all reached the lobby.

Dean smiled at you, looking down at your tea length lace wedding dress and his brand new navy suit. You figured you’d dress nice for this second try at a wedding, which already was so unlike your first wedding. Besides the giant portrait of Cher looming in front of you.

“Sammy is gonna get tired here pretty soon,” you brushed your daughter’s hair back. You tried to put it in cute clips and headbands, but she always tore them off and threw a fit. If she didn’t like something, she made sure you knew it. Like father, like daughter.

Dean smirked and then looked over at his brother. “You that old ya need a nap?”

“She was talking about my namesake, Dean,” Sam pouted. Your baby girl blew raspberries against Dean’s cheek, her bright green eyes glittering as she giggled at his attempts to kiss her cheeks instead. “I’ll join you guys for dinner but I was going to meet up with a friend after.”

“Sam’s got a date, huh?” you smirked. “Who's the lucky girl?”

“Ummm, Lauren.”

You and Dean stared back at him, waiting for more information.

“We met here two years ago? Blonde? She’s a nurse? You met her!”

You and Dean continued to stare, Sammy giggling at her grandpa Bobby who was playing peekaboo with her over Dean’s shoulder.

“Yeah sure, she’s a _nurse_ , Sam,” Dean winked. Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, pouting that you’d forgotten the star of his own wild Vegas weekend.

“Huh. When y’all told the story, I thought her name was Candy?” Bobby piped in.

The lobby was silent for a moment before you and Dean burst out laughing. Sam glared at you both, Bobby oblivious to what was so funny. You and Dean quieted down and as you opened your mouth to ask where everyone wanted to go to eat, little Sammy burst out into sweet high pitched giggles that made you all smile.

“Wanna go see the fountains?” Dean smiled down at you as his fingers weaved between yours. You tilted your head at his sweet suggestion.

“Lead the way, Mr. Winchester.”

“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Winchester.”

With Samantha in your arms, Dean holding you both, and the Bellagio fountains erupting in front of you, you chuckled to yourself. Your life had changed so drastically since the last time you stood there, but Vegas was still the same. You laughed as Sammy pointed out the streams of water every time the shoots would explode in the air with loud shrieks of "Foundins! Foundins!" It was the perfect magical end to your second wedding.

“Happy Birthday,” you whispered into Dean’s ear. 

“Thanks sweetheart.” He chuckled and kissed your cheek. You didn’t miss the sheen in his eyes as you tilted your face to look up at him. “For everything.” The kiss was as gentle and fond as the first one you’d shared in a retro photo booth years before.

They say that whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But your life with Dean was proof that sometimes the biggest mistakes can become the most wonderful blessings. 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> FEEDBACK MEANS THE WOLRD TO ME! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED
> 
>  
> 
> Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is property of evansrogerskitten. Characters aren’t mine, but this fanfiction is. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post.


End file.
